


Flickers upon Cordillera

by cyndrarae



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha Jensen, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Jared, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Pack Dynamics, Post-Apocalypse, Prostitution, Rimming, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sex Toys, Shapeshifting, Top Jensen, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: It’s a brave new post-apocalyptic world. Humans no longer rule the planet, Lorics do. And at the bottom of the food chain are the shifters. This is a world pretending to be better, but racial tensions simmer thick under the surface. Then there’s Jared, genius-level shifter, pretending to be someone pretending to be Jared. And there’s Jensen, powerful Loric Alpha, falling in love with a human but accidentally bonding with a shifter. It’s an epical comedy of errors that snowballs into the biggest socio-political scandal of the millennium. One this brave new post-apocalyptic world sorely needed.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> \- Thank you Jennifer (jdl71) for your beta support, you’ve been incredible! All mistakes are now purely mine.  
> \- Thank you Dana (yanyann) for your gorgeous art! Here's her [Art Post](http://yanyann.livejournal.com/15814.html%20). Please let her know how talented she is!  
> \- Thank you Wendy for running the bigbang challenge! This seems to be the only way I get any writing done so.. cheers!  
> \- So obviously I've dreamt up this world out of thin air and with no scientific basis whatsoever. I claim creative license :D Just.. play along will ya?  
> \- POV varies by sections, should be easy to spot. Except in Prologue, which is more omnipresent POV.  
> \- All characters are entirely fictitious, only inspired by actors on the show Supernatural (and some on The Walking Dead.) Not written for profit, only meant to be a creative outlet and for fun.  
> \- Because I'm a visual person, and an occasional insomniac, this is my [character book](https://www.dropbox.com/s/c2skxho6fdpmkuw/Flickers%20Upon%20Cordillera.pdf?dl=0), well a highly abbreviated version. Thought you might enjoy it :)  
> \- Finally, I wrote this because I wanted to read it. Having said that, it’s always nice to hear from you so, hope you give this a shot!  
> \- **This is part one of a planned three-part series. Book One is a self-contained story, but it does leave a few ends loose on purpose, to be picked up in the as-of-now unwritten Book Two. Please proceed if you're okay with this.**  
> 

#### Flickers upon Cordillera

_Me, change! Me, alter!_

_Then I will, when on the everlasting hill_

_A smaller purple grows –_

_At sunset, or a lesser glow_

_Flickers upon cordillera –_

_At day's superior close._

**_\-- Emily Dickinson_ **

** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- **

#### Avril, 3930 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Chatoyant Court  
_** **_Stormway, Manchester_ **

 

Samantha wiped her face dry when she heard her eight year-old walk into the bedroom.

“Does this look all right?” Jared asked, smoothing the creases in his brand new uniform with his little palms.

He wore a short, brown double-breasted jacket with brown slacks, white shirt, and a bronze ceremonial belt resting low around his hips.

Samantha looked him up and down and smiled. “You look very handsome!”

Jared pouted, not believing her entirely. She rose from the creaky wooden floor where she’d been kneeling, packing his school trunk. “It’s a little big, but you’ll grow into it soon enough.”

In a similar gesture, she smoothed down her own mid-length, maroon velvet dress, then sat on the bunk bed and patted a spot beside her. Jared followed her cue and jumped up to sit next to her, letting her hold him tightly. He felt her tremble and bit his lip.

“Momma, I don’t _have_ to go.”

Samantha pulled away abruptly. “We talked about this, baby,” she got up and went back to finish packing.

“Your class teacher called you a… what was it… an Einster? That means you’re an incredibly smart little person. But turning down a full scholarship from Eyton – that won’t be very smart, would it?”

“Yes, but it’s so far away…”

“And that’s a good thing. This is an opportunity not a lot of our kind get. This is your way out, _our_ way out, and I for one need you to take it baby, okay?”

Jared chewed at his lower lip, swung his little feet back and forth. Samantha studied his profile and sighed wistfully. The boy looked more and more like his father every day.

“Let’s go over it again. What’s your name?”

“Jared Smith, sorry, Pada- Padalecki. Why does it have to be so difficult?”

“The forger didn’t exactly give me a choice. Now go on, where are you from?”

“A little town up north called Inverness. My father was a fisherman, my mother is a personal assistant.”

“And how did you get into Eyton?”

“My teacher, Mr. Beaver, submitted one of my history essays to a public contest online. Apparently I won by the highest margin in Eyton history.”

“That’s right, my little Einster, whatever that means,” Samantha cooed proudly and stood up. Jared rolled his eyes. It’d take much too long to explain to her what, or rather who, Einstein was.

“All right, you’re all packed. The transporter should be here any time now. Come here, let me brush your hair.”

Jared groaned and pulled his head down into his chest in exasperation. The action sent his long tresses jerking forward, curtaining his face from all sides and it made Samantha laugh.

“Don’t be like that! Who knows when I’ll get a chance to do this again?”

This had been a ritual for mother and son every night before bed for as long as he could remember. Jared sat leaning his back against her chest, his knees pulled up and his forearms resting atop them. Samantha ran a soft bristled brush through his locks. And then she asked her usual question.

“So what story do you have for me today?”

“Seriously, momma, you’re the one who’s supposed to be telling _me_ bedtime stories.”

“I would, except I only know so many, and you outgrew them all by the time you were three! That’s not my fault now, is it?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Jared didn’t blame his mother for having never been to school. Sadly that was how things were for most adults he knew. The school Jared got to go to was barely as old as Jared himself, started by a non-profit in this little town of Stormway off the coast of the Alaskan Ocean.

Samantha planted a gentle kiss to the side of his face. “Besides, you’re the one who loves to read. Read from your essay again.”

“Again? Momma you’ve heard it eight times now.”

“I like to hear it. Tell me the story of the Second Genesis again.”

The eight-year old sighed and started narrating excerpts from the essay he knew every word of by heart.

“Once upon a time, humans were the dominant species on the planet. There were a whole lot more species of animals and plants back then but humans controlled and subjugated them all. The Lorics weren’t around back then to protect them. In fact, they were nothing more than myths, the stuff of _lore_. There is no mention of Lycans, Sherans, or Equideans in any recorded history from that time.”

“And no shifters either?”

“Nope, nothing but urban legends. Eight thousand years ago, humans destroyed their world with nuclear war. The richest humans – no more than one percent of the world’s population at the time – bought their way into pre-built underground bunkers and survived, leaving everyone above ground to die a slow and painful death.”

“Or so they thought.”

“You’re jumping ahead again.”

“Sorry baby, please continue.”

Jared giggled. “The best scientists of the time – this is like fifty years after Einstein – found a way to manipulate the weather systems and trigger an artificial ice age. The ice age was supposed to wash away the radiation and make earth inhabitable again. They expected enough of a meltdown in about three hundred years’ time. But they were wrong about that too.”

Samantha smirked as she pulled the last of the tangles out of her son’s silken hair.

“The ice age they triggered lasted way longer than they thought. In fact it’s still going on. Only four thousand years ago did the temperatures rise enough for humans to come out of their tombs up to the surface. They probably came out expecting to inherit the earth once again as the dominant and maybe only species left on the planet. Instead they found…”

A stout knock on the door interrupted him. Mother and son froze in their spots, not wanting their time together to end just yet.

“Sam?” Alaina rapped on the door again. “Transporter’s here. And the driver’s being really fussy. Jackass doesn’t want to be seen parked here.”

“Coming!” Samantha called back. She swallowed her tears once again, then turned her son around towards herself. 

“Time to go, baby,” she smiled, projecting more excitement than she felt. She kissed his face several times until he groaned, then let him go to check his trunk again.

“Now remember,” she said, closing the lid and locking it in place. “No shifting while you’re there. For any reason whatsoever. And no matter what, you can’t tell _anyone_. Not even your best friends, okay?”

“Assuming I make any.”

“Of course you will!” Samantha knelt before him. “You’ll make so many friends that you’ll have no time to miss me. Just… don’t tell them, okay? And you can’t write to me here in Stormway either. I’ll come see you during your breaks but w-we can’t let anyone know who, _what_ we are…”

“I know, momma.” Jared lowered his eyes, “I know the humans hate us.”

“Sweetheart…”

“They do.” Jared cut her off in a matter-of-fact way that broke Samantha’s heart. “They fear us for what we can do. And for that they envy us too.”

Samantha closed her eyes, unable to find the words to respond.

“I’m sorry, momma, I don’t mean to be difficult.”

“No, not at all baby. You’re right. They hate us. But then they hate the Lorics too, heck they hate everyone. It’s their defining trait – hatred. That’s why I need you to do what we do best – blend in. Just don’t give them a reason, don’t make it easy for them, okay?”

He nodded softly. She adjusted the lapels of his shirt and tried to find the words to say goodbye.

“Jared, will you promise me something?”

“Anything, momma.”

She gazed into his big hazel eyes and tried not to cry. “I know the Court is all you’ve known, it’s where you were born, and it’s been our shelter for many years. But the Court is _not_ your home. Remember that. I don’t want you to return, no matter what. Will you promise me that, baby?”

Jared’s first instinct was to hide his face behind his hair and just… bawl. But even as a child, he was uncannily adept at suppressing his emotions. Samantha sighed, knowing that to be another thing he had in common with the bastard who knocked her up then fell off the face of the earth. She drew him into one last hug before Alaina thumped their door again.

“Time to go, baby. I’ll see you in the fall, okay? I love you so much!"

“I love you too, momma.”

So began the first day of the life of one Jared Padalecki.

He kissed his mother and Alaina one last time. Then he stepped into the maglev transporter, and the driver couldn’t pull away fast enough. Jared waved until the Court diminished in size then vanished from view altogether. He knew he’d see Samantha again, but he didn’t expect to see his hometown ever again.  

But life in the post-glacial age, or in any age for that matter, rarely turns out quite the way one expects it to.

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Janvier, 3941 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Oxbridge University  
_** **_Oxbridge, Manchester_ **

 

Nineteen-year old Jared snuck into Anthropological History 101 at the halfway mark. He didn’t need this class. He had enough credits to graduate tomorrow, if he wanted, and start law school now instead of waiting till the spring. But he had a reason to stick around, a really good one.

“All right, pop quiz!”

The classroom erupted into a litany of groans. Professor Steven Williams crossed his arms.

“Yes, yes, my heart’s breaking for you too. Keeping with the spirit of this class, let’s use a primitive method today. First one to raise their hand and answer correctly adds ten points to their final scores. Understood?”

The students grunted noncommittally, while Jared lounged in the back and smirked.

“First question: what is the New Tibet Convention Accord?”

One hand shot up. Jared craned to look at owner of said hand and found _her_ – the sophomore he met last night at the mixer. She was sitting in the very first row of the class. Her long blonde curls cascaded all the way down to the floor behind her chair. Her black-rimmed glasses perched precariously on her nose. Jared squashed an urgent need to go push those glasses up on her flawless face.

“Yes, Miss Palicki.”

“The New Tibet Convention Accord of 801 PG brought the Lorics of Midworld to the table for the first time to achieve a peaceful settlement. They agreed to allocate four territories to humans on four corners of the continent. These are now the four human-controlled regions of Midworld – Manchester in the west, Silanka in the south, Xiyang in the east, and Reykia up north.”

“Very good, ten points, Miss Palicki. What are the two defining factors of these territories that humans required, and why?”

A sophomore sitting on the other end of the classroom raised his hand. “One – they had to be plains in moderate temperature zones. Humans, when they surfaced from the tombs after four thousand years, had lost the ability to live in extreme climates or terrains. And second – they had to be near sources of drinking water. So they’re all near, or in case of Manchester, surrounded by oceans.”

“Very good, Mr. Chau, ten points,” Williams went on to elaborate. “The nuclear radiation and the artificial ice age may be responsible for this – but oceans in prehistoric times used to be salty and inland rivers and lakes were supposed to have fresh water. It is now the opposite. The Mers don’t seem to mind it, they must have adapted as the change was happening.”

Jared tuned out the discussion he’d heard many times before. He watched the blonde instead as she listened intently and made furious notes. There was some serious sparking between them last night. He’d never felt this way for anyone before. This tall, elegant, no-nonsense woman with a whacky sense of humor, reminded Jared of his late momma.

Samantha would have liked Adrianne very much. Jared was sure of that.

“Now as we discussed last time, humans occupy barely three percent of the planet’s surface, because most of the rest is still uninhabitable for us. We all suffer from the Goldilocks syndrome – can’t stand too cold and can’t stand too hot either. That and because Lorics _own_ most of the planet. I want names of all Loric races and the territories they control. Who wants this one?”

Jared remembered this next boy who raised his hand, a Paul something. He’d been flirting with Adrianne last night before she’d walked over to Jared.

“Lycans and Equideans control Midworld. Equideans have two-thirds on the eastern side and Lycans the west. Lycans used to own the island of Manchester too before they gave it to us. Across the Alaskan ocean, Sherans control all of Westworld. And finally down under, another mega-pack of Lycans control the west side of the Southlands. The rest is a mixed bag mostly comprised of Impalans and Olyphants, along with maybe a few others.”

 

“Good, Mr. Wesley! But I think you missed someone.”

Paul frowned. “You mean the Mers? I thought they didn’t actually control anything?”

Professor Williams grinned. “That was a trick question, and you’re right. The Mers seem to have no interest in controlling seas, oceans or any water bodies. So they let the other Lorics divvy up among themselves. In return they only ask that their natural habitats be protected.”

“So I still get the ten points, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Wesley. All right last one – the only other humanoid race we haven’t discussed today is – the shifters.”

Jared blinked, his attention drawn away from Adrianne to the conversation at hand.

“This race is often known as a sub-human _and_ sub-Loric race. As you all know, they don’t have an animal form to shift into. Instead they can take on other humanoid forms, provided they’ve sampled the target form’s DNA. Pretty nifty ability with huge criminal potential – they can mimic fingerprints, irises, voices, even scents. Which is why shifting was illegal in all human territories for a very, very long time, until about a hundred years ago. Anyone know how the decriminalization came about?”

It was a while before a hand went up.

“Yes, Ms. Kinney?”

“It was the Reedus Foundation. They moved the Earth Tribunal on behalf of hundreds of shifters languishing in jail without actually doing anything wrong or hurting anyone. It’s supposed to be ‘innocent until proven guilty’, not the other way round?”

“Very good, Ms. Kinney – ten points. The Reedus Foundation is a philanthropic organization that does great work championing the shifter cause. Now, who can recount the different origin theories for shifters? Two points each for every theory – go!”

Students scrambled to catch the professor’s eye while Jared quietly mused how his kind got severely undervalued, even in _theory_.

“One theory is that they’re actually Lorics who devolved over time, lost their link to their animal spirits. So while they can still shift forms, they don’t have a mythic connection left to shift into anymore.”

“Good, two points, what else?”

“Love children of Lorics and humans!”

The class laughed.

“Yes, that’s an actual theory so I’ll give it to you, Mr. Speight. What else?”

“Experimentation,” Adrianne added. “Some papers suggest that human scientists may have illegally experimented on Lorics to try and extract their regeneration abilities. Lorics can live to be five hundred years old, but humans can barely cross a hundred. So shifters are basically failed experiments?”

“That’s a prevalent belief yes. But like Lorics, shifters also have self-healing abilities and can live up to about three hundred years. So I wouldn’t call them a failed _anything_. Two more points, Miss Palicki. Last one? Whoever gets this, gets four points.”

“Why four?” Paul asked, his sense of fair play apparently offended.

Williams smirked. “Because this one is less well-known. You’d have to have looked at some pretty obscure references to know this one and therefore will be rewarded for it. So… anyone?”

Students looked at each other and shrugged. Professor Williams put his hands on his hips and nodded in the direction of Jared.

“Maybe Mr. Padalecki can enlighten us. Considering this is the second time he’s taking my class.”

Jared looked up at him, startled. He didn’t know he’d been spotted. Everyone in the room spun towards him at once – it was quite unnerving.

“Um, hey there, Professor Williams.”

“Let me guess, you missed me?”

Jared glanced at Adrianne long enough to meet her eyes, then quickly looked back up at Williams. “Something like that, sir.”

While the room looked confused (and indifferent), Williams smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to one of Oxbridge’s brightest, who might as well be teaching this class – Mr. Jared Padalecki.”

Only Adrianne flashed him a warm smile, while others still regarded him skeptically.

“So Mr. Padalecki. What can you tell us about the last origin theory?”

“Um, okay,” Jared cleared his throat. “This was proposed by two different research groups almost three hundred years apart. But neither humans nor Lorics seem interested in knowing more. And the Post-Glacial Scientific Journal seems pretty adamant on debunking it every time anyone brings it up.”

“Spill it already,” Wesley prodded, unable to stand the suspense anymore. Jared smirked and the Professor waved him over so he stood up.

“You guys know about the Lore gene, correct?” Jared dug his hands into his jeans pockets and climbed down the stairs towards the podium up front.

“Of course,” Adrianne responded. “Before the nuclear ice age, it was written off as nothing but junk in the human DNA. Turns out it was the key to the connection between humans and their animal spirits – wolves for Lycans, horses for Equideans, felines for Sherans, seaworld for Mers and so on.”

“That’s right,” Jared nodded, grateful for her participation. “The Lore gene lay dormant for many millennia, until it was activated by extenuating circumstances like a nuclear holocaust, an artificial ice age, and the genocide of billions of lives. It allowed Lycans to shift into wolf form to survive inclement weathers, but also build shelters and fires, and comfort their little ones with songs and stories in human form.”

Everyone was listening now, riveted.

“The Sherans adapted to shift into lions, tigers, panthers, leopards – any form of felines really – so they could hunt for food and protect their families – or packs as they eventually became – from other predators. And similarly, the Equideans took on the form of horses to carry their loved ones great distances up north, far away from the tsunamis, into the protection of mountains. The Mers grew gills to survive in the warmth and cover of the oceans. And everyone else who couldn’t adapt, perished. Except the one-percent humans in their bunkers of course.”

Students shifted audibly, many probably carrying an element of guilt on behalf of their ancestors for what they did to their fellow beings. 

“Now, conventional wisdom says that shifters are a newer race, evolved or mutated, from other Lorics over time. But this fourth theory suggests that they’re actually one of the _first_ Lorics who shared a genetic connection with the reptilian family – like lizards, chameleons and iguanas. Do you know what these ancient beings had in common?”

Osric raised a tentative hand. “They could all regenerate or shift forms _before_ and _without_ the activation of the Lore gene.”

Jared pointed both index fingers at him. “Exactly! Unfortunately, the reptilian family didn’t survive the double whammy of a nuclear ice age. One of the papers suggested that’s why shifters can’t shift to animal forms, but only to other humanoid forms. In a way, they’re handicapped.”

Paul whistled. “But if they _could_ shift to reptile, it would actually place shifters higher on the totem pole than other Lorics, wouldn’t it? I mean if I were Lycan, that’s how I’d see it.”

Jared shrugged, “That’s probably why Lorics reject the theory. But it gets even better. You want to hear what the second paper hypothesized?”

“Hells yeah!”

Jared smiled. This was why he loved this class. “The second team in Stanford suggested that this reptilian genetic code is constantly evolving in search of their extinct spiritual connection, and growing stronger as a result. So much that it might, over time, give them the ability to shift into _anything_. Human or animal.”

“The truest form of adaptation there can possibly be,” Professor Williams added. “And shifters may have the key to unlocking that code. Stanford even had a term for it – ‘ _trueblood.’_ The Lorics don’t like the idea, but then neither do humans.”

“But why, Professor? What are they afraid of?” Osric asked, curiously. And everyone seemed to lean forward collectively, waiting with bated breath for an answer.

“Now that’s a very good question, Mr. Chau. Imagine a being that could be anything it wanted, anyone it wanted… blessed with all the Loric powers, _and_ shifter abilities to slip away without a trace. There may be no limit to what this being could do. And yet where does a trueblood’s allegiances lie? What race and which pack will it belong to? And more importantly, who would control this all-powerful being?”

The room stayed silent for a long while. Jared looked at his professor, and they shrugged at each other in synchrony.

“All right, enough for today. Thank you all for your time and attention. And remember mid-semester essays are due in two weeks. Good day, everyone!”

The class started to file out, everyone still a little dazed, it seemed. Williams smiled at Jared and clapped his right shoulder. “Four points to you, not that they’ll be much use in law school.”

“No,” Jared chuckled, “not really.”

“I’d have thought you’d pursue science, but I’m very proud nonetheless.”

“Thanks Professor. And interracial dynamics being as they are, think I might be more useful out front instead of hiding in a lab somewhere.”

Williams nodded, then gestured to someone right behind Jared. “I’m guessing the reason you’re here is waiting for you.”

Jared turned to find Adrianne clutching her digipad to her chest, waiting for him patiently. “I know this place that serves excellent black teas from Silanka. Interested?”

Jared blushed when Adrianne offered her arm. He bid the Professor goodbye, then hooked his own arm around hers, and let her lead the way.

A year later, they graduated together and moved into a modest one-bedroom apartment in the city. He joined a highly reputed law firm, she became assistant curator at the Capital Museum of Art and History. Another two years later they were engaged. The plan couldn’t be clearer, and couldn’t possibly be more on track. Jared excelled in his career, became the youngest lawyer ever to make junior partner at his firm. And soon he was going to be Adrianne’s husband. 

Marriages in the post-glacial era were less about divine unions and more about making a solemn promise of fidelity and sharing resources with a life partner. Gender had no bearing on marriages in this world, but unfortunately race still did. Which is why Jared never told Adrianne or her parents what he was. Jared couldn’t imagine his life without Adrianne anymore. And he couldn’t let anything or anyone jeopardize that.

Besides, he’d made a promise to his momma. And even after her passing he intended (not to mention that it was in his best interest) to keep it.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

****

#### Août, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Chatoyant Court  
_** **_Stormway, Manchester_ **

 

The black stretch limo glided into the Chatoyant Court at ten past nine at night. Alaina, lady of the Court, waited by the front door to receive their most esteemed guest. It wasn’t every day that an Alpha-apparent of the First Lycan pack of Midworld paid them a personal, and extremely private, visit.

She wore a black velvet dress that hugged her curvaceous figure from the top of her breasts to her knees, with matching gloves climbing up to her elbows. She held a clear plastic parasol to shield herself from the August rain. The guest stepped out of the limo and stood three inches shorter thanks to her red stiletto boots and thick red hair piled into a bun on top of her head.

Alaina had to hold her breath. The Lycan looked like he’d been sculpted and brought to life by the gods of old themselves. His calm, dignified exterior belied the feral strength his body held underneath.

“Welcome, Alpha. We’re so pleased to have your patronage…”

Jensen of Ackles kissed the back of her gloved hand in greeting, per the custom of Manchester. But for the first time in his long life of eighty-four years, he couldn’t maintain eye contact. It had nothing to do with the woman herself, of course. The statuesque Alaina Huffman was famed for her intimidatingly perfect, ice-cold beauty. And the fiery tinge in her exquisitely kohled eyes was known to make the best of Alphas fall to their knees. But the number of sentient beings that could come anywhere close to making Jensen nervous could be counted on one thumb.

His mother, period.

Alaina could see the young Lycan was not affected by her as most humanoids were. So she quickly switched to business mode instead. “Let’s get you out of the rain, Alpha. Hope the drive in was not too tedious?”

Jensen just nodded again, not interested in the small talk.

“Can we make this quick, please?” He asked, once they were inside Alaina’s private offices. He spoke softly, with subliminal tones of an express command very few could ignore.

“Certainly, Alpha,” Alaina reached for the jacket in his hands before handing it off to Liane, her assistant, standing beside her. Her good friend, Samantha, occupied that spot once upon a time. Alaina jerked her head, startled, not sure what evoked that memory from such a long, long time ago.

She turned back to Jensen with a cordial smile. “Any preferences?”

Jensen bit his lip and gave it serious thought, as if he hadn’t thought of it a hundred times already on his way over.

“Male. Tall. Clean. Someone not afraid… of anything. And if that’s a lot to ask…”

“Absolutely not! Thank you for your precise words. I believe I have just the one for you,” Alaina assured him, before turning back to Liane with a set of instructions.

“And would you be staying the night?”

Jensen felt his palms sweat, not that anyone else could see it. “Just the hour, thanks.”

Ten minutes later, Jensen was ushered into a suite on the penultimate floor of the seven-story mansion. It was empty when he walked in and was asked to wait. Jensen looked around and admired the richly furnished rooms. Tall ceilings were adorned with dazzling chandeliers and ultra-soft shag rugs ran beneath his booted feet. It was everything Misha had described it’d be – a multi-sensory delight, but tastefully so. Too many lights maybe, for Jensen’s liking.

The Alpha ran a hand down his short, dark blond hair. He was surprised he’d actually made it this far. He still had his tuxedo on from the fundraiser in the capital earlier – the color such a deep shade of blue to be nearly black, along with an equally blue (or black) vest underneath. No shirt, that was the latest Mancunian trend, apparently.

A silver bowtie hung limply around his neck. Jensen yanked it off and was about to drop it in a trash can when he remembered Misha’s warnings, and stuffed it in his pocket. It was a traditional human thing, this throat-constricting contraption. He’d agreed to wear it to show his solidarity with the Mancunians, but had undone it soon as he left the premises. Yet, for some reason he still couldn’t breathe.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

A door to an interior room Jensen hadn’t paid heed to before clicked open and slowly pulled ajar. The tall brunet Jensen had asked for, stepped out and into the inescapable, bright light.

He was naked, except for a sheer gold robe made of a lace-like material that hid basically nothing. It draped around his bony shoulders, tightened at the V of his insanely narrow hips, before falling all the way down endless legs to his bare ankles. It gaped widest at the chest, giving Jensen a breathtaking peek at the little red nubs he couldn’t wait to touch. The robe also gaped at the crotch, revealing a generously endowed set of genitals, bejeweled in a crisscross pattern of golden strings.

Jensen had always had a preference for ‘tall’, but he’d never gone for someone _this_ tall before. In fact, everything about this man was… long, slender and unbearably exquisite. The adornments were simply unnecessary.

Jensen’s eyes traveled all the way down to the man’s glossy toes before traveling the same way back up to the top of his head. The shining halo of auburn hair was parted in the middle and fell in razor-shaped cascades down to the top of his shoulders, accentuating the long column of his neck. And that face… _that face_ … it was singularly the most beautiful face he’d seen all his life.

Jensen took a deep, deep breath. The courtesan (as these folks here at the Chatoyant were called) squinted his almond-shaped hazel eyes.

“See something you like?”

Jensen blinked. The voice was just as silken as he thought it’d be, the northern coastal accent both appealing and strange at the same time. The courtesan stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his hips jutting out subtly to the left, feet set apart but toes daintily pointed inwards to each other.

“Too bad we don’t have much time, we could have so much _more_ fun if we had the night.”

Jensen sighed, reminded by the less-than-subtle sales pitch of where he was – a high-end whorehouse, or a ‘court’ as these places were called in human parlance. His dad would have a coronary if he ever found out.

“Strip,” Jensen ordered gently, keeping his face as blank as he could manage.

The courtesan started, or pretended to, only to smile even wider after that. He pulled his robe off, slowly but without hesitation, leaving himself exposed from head to toe. Jensen’s eyes hungrily raked him over again. The wolf inside growled, in interest or disapproval, Jensen wasn’t quite sure, and suspected it was a bit of both. A _lot_ of both.

“How do you want me?” The courtesan asked, fidgeting a little as Jensen took his sweet time drinking in the sight of him, committing him to his colossal memory.

Jensen glanced at the armchair conveniently right next to him. The maroon embroidered texture and gold piping on the edges aside, it was large and looked sturdy. It would do.

“Come here.”

The courtesan swayed his hips ever so slightly as he walked up to the Alpha. Jensen wanted nothing more than to kiss those lush red lips, but once again he reminded himself where he was. He reached out with a hand and waited for the courtesan to willingly come within his reach. Once he did, without further warning, Jensen pushed him towards the back of the armchair and with a firm hand, bent him over.

“Right down to business then,” the courtesan jested, his honey-dipped voice shaking ever so mildly. Regular humans could not catch it, but a Lycan would. It appeased the wolf inside, impelled him on.

Jensen pushed the long frame down until he was draped over the back of the chair, his flawlessly shaped ass perched over the top, in perfect access. The courtesan spread his legs and braced himself by gripping fistfuls of cushion on the seat of the chair. Jensen tested his orifice and found it suitably oiled and ready to be used.

He sighed softly. “By the three continents, you were _born_ to do this,” he rasped, mostly to himself. He felt the lean body stiffen under his hands, but didn’t think much of it.

Jensen unzipped and took himself in hand. It didn’t take long to get himself where he needed to be, the sight of his companion had done the job for him long ago. He lined himself up and thrust in, slowly at first. When he found little resistance, he shoved the rest of the way in and bottomed out with a silent grunt of relief. The courtesan had no such compunctions and moaned quite artistically. Jensen couldn’t be entirely sure if it was practiced or genuine, but in that moment he didn’t much care.

He started moving, experimenting at first with smaller, shallower thrusts, then when he found the recipient was willing to take more, he picked up speed and force. Several minutes of languorous fucking was followed by another few minutes of erratic, out-of-control plowing until the courtesan’s moans sounded pretty damn genuine to Jensen’s keen ears.

The recipient focused on finding his own pleasure through the incessant and never-ending session, even though it couldn’t have possibly lasted for more than an hour. And he found it too, many times over, it wasn’t that hard to do. The Alpha penetrating him was skilled, virile, and fucking everywhere. Hands roamed the length of his torso finding every nook and corner that sent currents of arousal zipping through his entire being. The length and breadth of the Alpha’s frame enveloped him from all sides and the immovable weight pinned him in place with no escape possible. It wasn’t surprising of course – Lycans were said to possess the strength of three prehistoric humans, six if you counted the bunker dwellers. And it definitely didn’t hurt that he smelled of mountain pines and fresh snow.

It was so easy, so effortless, to lose oneself in the whirlwind of pleasure – both granted and received – that Jensen lost track of time of how long they went at it. He found release several times, and each time he came with a loud (and yet somewhat silent) sigh… a single name wrapped in layers of emotions he couldn’t give voice to anywhere else in the world.

“Jared… Jared… Jared…”

The courtesan closed his eyes and shuddered.

This was his life now. Plans go awry, fate doesn’t always work in one’s favor no matter how hard you try. This may not have been what his mother wished for him, but it was the best he was supposed to get. So he might as well make the most of it.

He bent his legs by the knees to spread them wider, urging the Alpha to go deeper, harder. He buried his face into the plush cushions and moaned as loud as he could, drowning out the voices both inside his head and out.

 

 

** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- **

 


	2. Chapter 2

#### Juillet, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 _ **Ackles Limo, on the road**_  
_**Cathedral, Manchester**_

 

Jensen Ackles was on his way to the parliament offices when the phone rang.

“Pick up,” he commanded. The line connected and a hologram of High Alpha Alan Ackles sprang out of the handset.

“All set, son?”

Jensen sat up straight, ignoring the smirk that spread across Misha’s face at the action. “I guess so. You’re sure you can’t make it?”

“This annual meet-and-greet with the Tibetans is possibly the most important thing I do all year, son,” Alan explained.

As leader of the Ackles mega-pack, the one that controlled basically half of Midworld – Alan was an incredibly busy man. In the last couple of decades though, he’d come to lean more and more on his stepson for a lot of his responsibilities.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dad, this is… riveting stuff. But you know I’ve never done any negotiations with the humans on my own before.”

“You’re not alone, son. For all his… juvenile tendencies… Misha happens to be the best damn human attorney-at-law this side of the continent.”

Misha grinned like a shocked loon and held two thumbs up at Jensen, who just rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage him, Dad. If his perfectly coiffed head gets any bigger it will explode.”

Alan smirked. “So what’s the latest on the terms, Collins?”

Misha cleared his throat and shifted closer to Jensen so he’d be in the High Alpha’s view. He pulled his digipad out from a jacket pocket, tapped a spot on the screen to expand it from phone mode to the size of a full-screen monitor. Jensen didn’t bother to look at the transparent interface. He could never make sense of Misha’s illegible squiggles.

“President Tapping has unconditionally agreed to our asking price, and also agreed to share the nine patented technologies we asked for.”

“Weapons, you mean,” Jensen interjected quietly and of course Alan heard him.

“Defense technologies,” he corrected sternly before turning to Misha. “Carry on.”

“The land dimensions are unchanged – basically they want the southernmost tip of Albion and the Bay of Eritrea to go with it.”

“Good, so if we’re all in agreement here, what’s the hold-up?”

With a swipe of his index finger, Misha threw up a hologram image in the center of the limo for Alan and Jensen to see. It was a familiar set of faces standing in a neat line, with one face in particular, in the dead center.

“The Peniketts, first Mer family of the Bay. They’re not too keen on having humans be their new water-lords, so to speak.”

Alan frowned. “The New Tibet Accord does decree that no decision on ownership of a natural resource can be made without the express agreement of its resident Lorics. If the Mers are not on board, the whole deal falls through.”

“We know Tahmoh, Dad,” Jensen replied. “And I think he may be onto something here. You’ve always said humans cannot be trusted to do the right thing if it comes in the way of their profiteering interests. No offense, Misha.”

The lawyer shrugged like he really didn’t care, “None taken.”

Jensen continued. “How can we be sure they’ll be responsible? That their fish farming and water purification projects won’t make the Bay uninhabitable for the Mers?”

Alan gave it some thought, “Well, you have to talk to them to figure out their intentions, whatever they may be. Do everything you can to guarantee the fairest terms possible for the Mers. But remember, Jensen, we need this deal as much as the humans do.”

Jensen sighed and looked away. He didn’t like the idea of amassing weapons technologies but Alan may be right. They weren’t on very good terms with the Lycans of the South who, of late, seemed to be perpetually looking for a fight. And then there were the rogue human factions constantly trying to push into Albion’s lands. Hunting animals for sport rather than necessity. Laying waste to forests that the Ackles considered their sacred responsibility to protect, and had done so for centuries.

Jensen nodded at Alan, “We’ll figure it out. You can trust us, Dad.”

Alan smiled. “I do, son, always have.”

They said their goodbyes and Misha pulled up his digipad again. “Okay, just so you know who all are going to be in the room today.”

Jensen leaned in to listen.

“President Tapping herself is planning to join because she’s expecting to ink this deal today. I don’t know if that’s going to happen. But she’ll be there along with her entourage of ministers – Interior, Water and Environment. The ministers will have their own entourages as well.”

“Of course they will.”

“The key people to know are Tapping’s legal team, headed by a Mark Pellegrino. He heads up the biggest law firm in all three continents, Pellegrino and Swallow. P&S for short.”

Jensen nodded. “I’m already expecting an army of lawyers in the room.”

“Well, Mark is keeping it discrete, probably under instructions from Tapping. So it’d be him, his wife and partner Emily, and maybe a couple of junior associates. You’ll of course see the Prince there. He’s representing himself. I suggested he get an attorney or to let me speak for him. He didn’t listen.”

Jensen smirked. “Yes, that’s the Tam I remember.”

Misha bit his lip. “Don’t expect to meet the guy you knew, Jensen. People change when they feel like their very existence is being threatened. You guys would know that better than anybody else.”

Jensen sighed and turned towards the window, watching the capital city of Cathedral fly past him at sonic speed. His mother had never been here. And every time she asked him to describe Cathedral, the first word that jumped to his mind was: claustrophobic. Traffic was a mix of autonomous and human-driven cars, which was probably why it was always choked. Skyscrapers blocked the gray skies out of view. And unlike his homeland, the color green was a rare sight indeed. Yet there was something fascinating about the city as well. Maybe the fact that it was the first man-made city in the post-glacial world, built with ingeniously advanced technologies, the kind only humans seemed capable of inventing.

Jensen wasn’t looking forward to this day at all. But this negotiation was important to Albion. And clearly there was a lot more at stake here than just weapons and technologies. 

He just hoped he was the right Lycan for the job.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

 

#### Juillet, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Mancunian Parliament Offices  
_** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Mark Pellegrino arrived twenty minutes early. He was seated on his own inside the conference room called ‘London,’ reading his digipad intently. He wasn’t nervous about this meeting. He was fucking terrified.

“Honey!” Emily walked in a minute later, followed by Adam Fergus, a junior associate working on the deal with them. Together they walked to the far end of the table where Mark sat. “Why didn’t you wait for me? We could’ve come in together.”

Mark smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, love. I had the Benedict hearing down the street and figured I’d just walk over. You have the papers drawn up for signing?”

“We do, thanks to Adam here.”

Adam glowed in her praise and looked at Mark. But the senior partner ignored him completely and turned back to his digipad to download and review said papers. The device suddenly buzzed, startling him. It was an encrypted text and he looked up discretely to see if Emily noticed. The female lawyer was busy settling herself into a seat beside him, while instructing Fergus to fetch her a cup of tea. Mark reduced his pad down to phone mode and turned away before opening the text message.

 _“Do whatever it takes. Get me the Bay.”_ That was all it said.

Mark quickly deleted the message and turned back to his wife. A few minutes later other people started filing into the room.

Tahmoh Penikett walked in alone, no entourage or representation, nothing. He looked at Mark with a mixture of disgust and apprehension. But before Mark could nod or smile back in greeting, he looked away, leaving Mark with a sense of foreboding. The P&S Associates had no idea how to engage with this strange Loric. They’d always had some trouble with Lorics in general, but really who could blame them? These beings were all just so… strange.

“Tammy!” Someone called out from the door irreverently, making the Mer leader turn around in surprise. Everyone else quietened and turned curiously to watch the exchange.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jensen stood at the door, a big smile stretching across his lips. He was dressed in the business attire humans expected from him – dark grey slacks and jacket over a pink shirt with a white tie. Tahmoh, in comparison, wore the traditional land-garb of his people – what the humans would refer to as paisley-printed pants, with a matching royal-blue robe that stayed open in the front. Tahmoh’s exposed upper torso clearly made the humans in the room uncomfortable, but Jensen couldn’t care less. His skin was an alluring shade of gold. And if it were a sunny day in Cathedral, Jensen knew his friend would be practically shimmering.

“It’s been a while, my friend,” the Lycan said as he hugged the Mer warmly.

“You look ridiculous,” Tahmoh responded, making them both snigger softly before they separated. Jensen adjusted his jacket but really he didn’t mind the ribbing at all.

“Jensen, I understand your stepfather’s interests are best served by closing this deal. But I’ve always known _you_ to be a fair and compassionate being. Can I expect your support as I make my plea on behalf of my people today?”

Jensen swallowed, not liking the mild shade thrown at Alan, but ignored it for the time being. “In principle I agree with you, Tam. But we must try and find a way to…”

He was saved from stumbling through an awkward noncommittal response by the announcement that President Amanda Tapping was arriving. Seconds later, a tall, statuesque woman in a cream-colored pencil skirt and matching lapel blazer strode in with purpose. Her brown hair was tied back severely into a bun. She wore very basic make-up and her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. Jensen could immediately tell this woman meant business.

With a quick nod of acknowledgement to everyone present, Tapping took her seat at the head of the table. Her legal team sat to her right. Jensen and Misha were seated to her immediate left. The rest of her entourage took seats all along the black glass table that stretched from one end of the conference room to the other. And at the far end of the table (perhaps by design), sat Tahmoh Penikett, Mer Prince of the Bay of Eritrea.

The agenda gave President Tapping and her team a chance to speak first. That was followed by Misha expressing his client’s consent to the deal as it had been drawn up. And then they turned to Tahmoh.

“Prince Penikett,” the President addressed him, drumming her fingers on the polished surface of the table a bit impatiently. “What can we do to allay your fears about this agreement?”

Tahmoh clasped his hands together on the table in front of himself. “Nothing, Madam President. Nothing at all.”

Tapping leaned in, looking hopeful. “Does that mean you’ll –?”

“I will not be signing the agreement under any circumstance. Your words are meaningless and in a way, I’m glad you haven’t even bothered to use them to assure my people so far. Because nothing you say will convince me to make the mistake my prehistoric ancestors once made.”

Jensen closed his eyes for a couple seconds. He knew how stubborn Tahmoh could be. His biological father had been good friends with Penikett Senior. Tahmoh and Jensen had practically grown up together, seeing each other at least twice a year. It’d been four decades since he last saw Tahmoh though. During this interlude, Tahmoh met his soulmate, bonded, and even had a couple of kids that Jensen had heard about and seen on the phone maybe once, but not actually met. So after all this time, he’d be fooling himself to think he held any sway here.

This deal was rapidly turning into a lost cause. And while personally he couldn’t bring himself to feel all that disappointed, he knew all too well that Alan would be. Jensen looked over at President Tapping, her expressionless face clearly tense and forced. She needed this deal more desperately than anyone else in this room. The city of Manchester was bursting at the seams. They needed room to expand, and resources to sustain the growing population of humans. More importantly, according to Misha, she was up for re-election in the winter.

“Prince Penikett,” she tried again, “every negotiation needs a starting point, and a set of terms to put on the table for consideration. Please, just let us know what you need. And we can talk about it.”

Tahmoh smirked. He was clearly enjoying his position of power. “If after all this time you still don’t know what we need, Madam President, then it should be quite obvious why there’s nothing left to talk about.”

“O-of course we have a good idea,” Mark interjected. “And we’re willing to add the necessary provisions and riders to make sure the Mers’ way of life is not disrupted. How about we sit down and discuss it?”

“Mr. Pellegrino, I’ve heard you talk. And I do not believe a word of what comes out of your mouth. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my family.”

Everyone stood up just as Tahmoh did. Only Jensen remained seated, leaning back in his chair. He was already resigned to taking this back to the drawing board, see if the humans were willing to make this deal without the Bay. Which, if Misha was to be believed, was going to be a pretty hard sell.

The door to the conference room opened, letting in a tall, lanky fellow Jensen had never seen before. The gush of air that swept into the room carried with it the human’s mild but scintillating scent. This… alluring stranger smelled of blue hyacinths, and the Alaskan ocean. It made the wolf inside Jensen sit up and take notice.

“Madam President, I’m so sorry for barging in like this! But I have some information that is very pertinent to the discussion, the… negotiations, I mean.”

Everyone’s attention spun from Tahmoh to the newcomer. Some were frowning and skeptical, others curious and hopeful.

Pellegrino jumped in then. “Uh, sorry, Madam President, this is my very bright, very young associate, Jared Padalecki. He’s been working on this initiative closely with myself and Emily.”

He waved the associate over, clearly expecting the youth to somehow, as humans liked to say, pull a rabbit out of the hat.

“Let’s hear him out,” Tapping said. She gestured for Jared to speak, which he did once he was standing right between Pellegrino and Tapping at the head of the table.

“I’m, uh, I’ve been researching historical precedents for three-way negotiations involving Lorics of the sea. I found this case from 2366 PG in which it was ruled that…”

Jared paused and looked directly at Tahmoh, clearly nervous.

“Go on, we’re listening,” Jensen said, gently encouraging Jared.

The young human looked at Jensen for the first time since he arrived. His eyes landed on the Alpha and lingered there, almost a moment too long. He seemed to recover when Jensen smiled at him, smiled back gratefully then turned to look at Tahmoh again.

“In 2366, a human faction living on the southern coast of Albion, took the Ackles’ to the Earth Tribunal for ‘unfair treatment of a tenant.’ They questioned why they had to pay rent and follow strict rules of conservation while the Mers in the Bay of Eritrea lived for free and without restraint on how they used the Bay’s natural resources.”

Jensen frowned, he’d never heard of this before.

“Gordon Ackles, the High Alpha at the time, gave Mers the option to assume ownership of the Bay and thwart the argument at the root itself, so to speak. But the Mers did not wish to lose the protection of Albion from the hostile Lycans of the South, and other rogue human factions. So instead, they argued that the Mers were _materially_ no different from other non-Loric species living in the Bay. And just as those species paid no rent and followed no rules, Mers didn’t have to either.”

Tahmoh’s face went white as a sheet. He slowly descended back into his seat. He stared at an unremarkable point in the center of the table and refused to look up at anyone else. Jensen leaned forward and watched his friend in concern.

“And this is on record?” Pellegrino inquired, faking naiveté, as if it wasn’t clear enough already.

Jared exhaled and nodded. “So, by extension… if the Mers have already conceded that they are no different from say the trout and the sharks, then it means they don’t have any say in what happens to the ownership of the bay. Which would give the Ackles unfettered autonomy on all decisions about the Bay. Which means…”

“Do you believe this to be moral, Mr. Padalecki?” Tahmoh looked up at Jared, cutting him off abruptly. “Using an obscure historical precedent from a time long past to diminish the rights of six thousand Mers living in the Bay today?”

Jared suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights of some of the most important sentient beings on the planet. Jensen watched the young man carefully, admiring his unassuming beauty and the genuineness with which he was trying to do his job. And Jared did seem to give the question due consideration before composing a response.

“I think any peaceful agreement we can come to today that helps avoid a potentially hostile situation down the line is moral, Prince Penikett. I empathize with the six thousand Mers of the Bay, believe me, I do. But we must also think of the forty million humans living on the island of Manchester. The quality of their lives has been degrading every day because they… _we_ … are running out of space and resources. I think we can put safeguards in the agreement to make sure all parties involved get what they want. That’s… that’s what I think…”

As Jared petered off, he turned to look squarely at Jensen. There was conviction in his eyes. But there was also a plea for… something… support, or maybe approval.

“Can we have a minute?” Jensen asked and stood up without waiting for anyone’s response. He walked over to a still stunned Tahmoh, gripped his arm and pulled him out of his chair. “Come on.”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

They found a breakout room and closed the door behind them. Jensen crossed his arms and inhaled deeply before he began.

“Look, if we don’t resolve this impasse now, the humans _will_ take this to the Tribunal. And once there, with this new information that kid dug up, I don’t see how you win. Besides, there’s no telling what _other_ damage such a public trial could do to Loric rights everywhere. Tam, please…”

“You’re asking me to trust humans with the well-being of my people,” the Mer ground his words out quietly.

“No, I’m asking you to trust _me_. I will not let Dad sign anything that ends up hurting the Mers in any way, I promise you.”

For the first time since Jared walked in, Tahmoh looked up and met his friend’s eyes.  

Ten minutes later, Jensen returned to the conference room, alone. Nobody was particularly surprised. Penikett had no legal say left in the rest of these proceedings and, therefore, no need to stick around.

Pellegrino looked pleased with how things had turned out. Jared had even been offered a chair, now that he’d singlehandedly revived the deal. The younger lawyer did not look as smug as his boss did though.

“I want new papers drawn up,” Jensen declared, walking up to his seat at the table. “I want clearly defined provisions and penalties to protect the shoal territories where the Mers live. And I want _you_ to work on it.”

Everyone followed the Alpha’s index finger to the person it was pointed at – Jared Padalecki.

“Me?”

“Yes, YOU. I want to see all your drafts, I want to review every single word in person, together. I want you to take responsibility for the Mers personally. Once and only once I’m satisfied, will we then proceed with the deal, is that understood?”

The question was directed at everyone else in the room but specifically at President Tapping. She looked a little put out by the delay, but having no other choice, she nodded courteously.

“Loud and clear, Alpha. I assure you that while the future of my people is my first priority, I could not sleep at night knowing that it came at the expense of another people. Let’s adjourn until the new papers are drawn up. Thank you everyone for your hard work!”

Jensen stood up and shook hands with her. After she left, he was accosted by a bunch of ministers and associates, all lining up to introduce themselves and shake hands with the most powerful Alpha on the continent (after his stepfather, of course). Once they finally left him alone, Jensen looked around and searched the room for one specific person – the person that was no longer there.

Misha popped up beside his left shoulder, almost startling Jensen. “He waited for you to get free, but then Pellegrino dragged him out behind him.”

Jensen bit back his disappointment. “Okay then, let’s get out of here.”

“That was quite a Hail Mary the kid pulled off, didn’t he?” Misha wondered out loud as the two men walked out of the Parliament and towards their limo.

Jensen frowned at him, not understanding the reference. Misha waved it off. “It’s a prehistoric sports reference, frankly I don’t understand it either. I don’t understand the fascination that ancients had with chasing balls, catching balls, passing balls back and forth. But anyway, basically he pulled off, like, a miracle.”

Jensen didn’t respond, but couldn’t agree more. He got into his limo and waited for Misha to be seated before activating the AI driver.

“Back to the yacht, please.”

The vehicle pulled out onto Main Street and promptly headed to the marina west of the city.

“He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, twenty-four tops. Most litigators don’t get to leave the back-office before the age of thirty. Must be quite the overachiever.” Misha continued to speculate while Jensen pretended to not hear him. In truth, he was quite taken by the young man.

Not only was Jared bright and articulate, there was something incredibly magnetic about him. Humans wouldn’t describe him as conventionally handsome. They’d say he was too gangly and under-groomed by their standards. In Jensen’s eyes though, Jared was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous. Not to mention the fact that he smelled absolutely divine.

“Genius move that one – reviewing all his drafts? Now he _has_ to come see you again. Smart.”

“Misha…”

“I didn’t think you were capable of making moves like that. Hell, I’ve known you for twenty years and you’ve never once shown this sort of interest in anyone, human or otherwise…”

“What will it take to shut you up?”

“Just tell me one last thing – which head did you use exactly to decide that a twenty-three year old _novice_ should be your point person in working with you on the biggest deal of your life? The one upstairs or…?”

The cold glare pointed his way stopped Misha in his tracks. But it didn’t stop him from smirking, rather happily in fact, for his friend.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

#### Juillet, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Aboard the Nyctimus, Marina Bay  
_** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

“All right, yes, fine!”

Misha pumped his fists victoriously, while Jensen shook his head in exasperation. His very persistent and _talkative_ human friend did have a way of wearing him down.

“He is beautiful. There, I said it.” Jensen brought his beer mug back up to his mouth mainly to hide behind it, then stretched his legs out on his white lounge chair.

They were aboard the Nyctimus, Jensen’s private yacht, long-distance travel vessel of choice, and frankly his home for most months of the year. It was a bright sunny morning at the Marina, and by Cathedral standards a very rare day indeed. That might be a contributing factor as to why Jensen was in a good mood, a _sharing_ mood, for a change.

“Interracial relationships, Lycans dating humans, all that is still frowned upon, isn’t it?” Misha asked, taking a sip of his own beer and adjusting the blue sunglasses on his face.

Jensen nodded, his voice filled with an age-old weariness. “It’s not just the Lycans. Lorics in general don’t approve. They might make exceptions for inter-Loric couplings but mating with humans is like the worst taboo ever.”

“Don’t you mean second worst?”

Jensen looked at Misha. “You’re right, the absolute worst would be with shifters. I’ve never even heard of a Loric mating with a shifter before. And if that ever happened, well, that’ll just cause all hell to break loose up on the cordillera.”

“But it’s not like… against the law or something, right?”

“Well, no, because… let’s be honest, Lorics have a superiority complex, based on the fact that they think humans are selfish dicks whose prejudices already caused one apocalypse, that we know of! So after all that, how can a Loric possibly propose a law like that without looking like a huge bigoted dick themselves? Nobody on the Earth Tribunal would dare.”

“And yet, bigotry exists. You just don’t like to admit it.”

Jensen was usually the first to jump up and defend his kind but on this matter, he really couldn’t.

“Let’s just say, if you fall in love with someone outside the community, you better be prepared to leave the community.”

“I still don’t get why.”

“To keep the Lorics bloodlines pure, I don’t know really. There are some trumps who believe shifters are an abomination, and shouldn’t exist. That in fact cross-breeding with humans is what created the race of shifters.”

Misha scrunched up his face. “There is no scientific basis for that theory, that’s just illiterate talk.”

“I know,” Jensen took another gulp of his beer. “Anyway… there are some folks who’re open-minded. Like my biological dad – Jeffrey. He’s bonded to a human.”

“I like your biological dad. He’s pretty bad-ass.”

“You have no idea,” Jensen smirked, but then followed it up with a sigh. “But it’s also why I hardly see him anymore. Soon after bonding with Andy, they moved to New Tibet. That’s Equidean territory. Those dudes, they couldn’t care less who you love.” 

Misha looked at Jensen for a while, then leaned forward. “Well, I for one, would be fully supportive if you do decide to make a move on the very beautiful, very _human_ , Mr. Padalecki.”

“Supportive?” Jensen snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

Misha grinned. “You’re right. Fact is, buddy, I’d give good money to see you actually enjoy yourself for a change, have fun, be happy, you know? When was the last time you were really happy, do you even remember?”

“…”

Misha sighed. “Well, I think this kid has a lot of potential. You give yourself – and him – a chance and you never know, you might end up being very good for each other.”

Jensen looked away towards the open waters. He always found the sound of waves soothing, loved it when they gently crashed against the stern and splashed away.

“And if, for whatever reason, the man isn’t available, I know just the place to cheer you up.”

Jensen turned to glare at Misha. He already knew what the human was about to suggest.

“There’s a little shifter town up north you may have heard of. It’s called Stormway, famous for its excellent fishing and tourism activities. Specifically, pleasure tourism.”

“Ugh, here we go again.”

“One court in particular is my favorite. It’s called the Chatoyant. Very high-end, very tasteful, very discreet.”

“I don’t think so, but thanks.”

“I’m serious, it’s worth a look. And I think someone as open-minded and adventurous as you might really like it…”

“Shut up, Misha.”

“Unless what you’re telling me is that you happen to be one of those bigots who wouldn’t want to fuck a _mutt_? You can instruct the staff to take whatever measures you need, like have them wear gloves just so they’ll never touch you, if that’s your concern.”

Jensen just shook his head, not bothered enough to respond or legitimize that comment.

“All right fine, but let me know if you change your mind!” Misha leaned back and closed his eyes, still smirking.

Jensen ignored his friend’s attempts to annoy him, recognizing them for what they really were – a way to distract Jensen and keep him from getting too much into his own head.

He was eighty-four years old. And by Lycan standards that may not be much, hell it was barely a fifth of his life gone by. But Jensen _had_ expected (wanted) to be bonded long ago. Most of his friends and schoolmates were. Going home to the cordillera only reminded him of how solitary his own life was. They even called him ‘lone wolf’ behind his back. It was not meant to be a compliment.

Jensen sighed and stood up to get another beer. It’s not like he cared what the pack thought of him or the choices he’d made so far. But he couldn’t ignore the dull ache in his heart every time he saw how happy his friends Thomas and Jaime were. They’d been bonded to each other since they were nineteen years old. That’s…. Jensen knocked his head against the closest bar cabinet and hoped Misha didn’t notice. That was sixty-five years of happiness in the formative years of a Lycan’s life that Jensen would never know, never even understand what it must feel like.

He returned to his recliner, new drink in hand, trying very hard not to wonder what Jared was doing that evening.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

 **A/N** : I'm sure many of you have already noticed this: in the timestamps the month names are in French. For e.g. Avril - April, Juillet - July and so on.  


	3. Chapter 3

#### Juillet, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Silver Oaks Condominiums,  
_ ** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Jared pressed his thumb against the fingerprint scanner on his front door. He expected to be let in immediately once the AI recognized him as the lease-holder of this fortieth-floor one-bedroom apartment. But that’s not what happened.

The door stayed locked and an automated female voice echoed through the security panel. “Welcome home, Jared. Adrianne has requested she be notified before granting you entry. Please wait, she’s been contacted.”

Jared frowned for a second but then rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Adie! What are you trying on today? Again?”

The face of a beautiful blonde woman appeared on the panel. “Oh tosh! Give me a minute, I’ll be right there, okay?”

Jared sighed. He couldn’t see anything beyond her face and neck, but she appeared to be in the middle of undressing herself. “Hey, I respect your beliefs but, honey, this is bordering on blind superstition. I mean how could I possibly jinx us by seeing your dress before the wedding?”

Adrianne smiled, “Oh no, honey it’s not you! But we’ve had to postpone twice now since we graduated. Two times! I’m not taking any more chances, all right?”

She disappeared for a few seconds, probably putting away her trousseau. Shortly after, the door clicked open and Jared threw his head back in relief before stepping in. He dumped his jacket, boots, umbrella and satchel in a foyer closet. Then tugging at his tie, he ambled into the living room.

The place was small, it was all they could afford in this neighborhood, but cozy enough for two. The décor was a combination of soft pastel shades and comfortable furniture, punctuated with pieces of prehistoric art that Adrianne liked to collect. As assistant curator at the Capital Museum, this was the greatest passion of her life. After Jared of course, as he often teased her.

Everything in this apartment had been carefully chosen and put in place by her. And everything managed to look somewhat expensive, but really wasn’t. Imitations of paintings perfectly preserved in the bunkers for four thousand years by some ancient artist called Rembrandt. Pieces of sculptures depicting _pre-_ prehistoric gods… Jared didn’t understand most of it. But he was very appreciative.

“There you are,” Jared chuckled as he found his fiancée in the kitchen, and walked up to greet her.

She softly kissed him on the mouth then handed him a glass of prosecco. “How was your day, honey?”

Jared heaved a sigh. “Extremely eventful. Lots to tell you.”

“Really? What are we waiting for?”

Jared narrated the events of the day starting with his very dramatic last-minute discovery of the Tribunal case of 2366, his mad dash on foot from their offices on Fleet street all the way to the Parliament, the multiple, harrowing body searches the Secret Service put him through before they allowed him in, finally culminating in an explosive reveal that could, and likely _would_ , save the treaty.

They were cuddled up next to each other on the couch. When Jared finally stopped talking, Adrianne breathed deeply, looked up at him and smiled. “I’m so proud of you, honey. I believe you did the right thing. Now if only _you’d_ believe it too.”

Jared started, amazed as always by how clearly she could read him. If it weren’t for the one big secret he was still holding on to (in honor of his late momma,) Adrianne would know him better than maybe Jared knew himself.

“Well, Manchester _is_ falling apart. And humans do need more room and resources to survive.” Jared smirked, “plus it felt good to stick it to the high-and-mighty Lorics for once.”

Adrianne chuckled. She knew he was only half-joking.

“But there’s a reason humans are so universally distrusted. I just hope they’re… _we’re_ willing to do the right thing in return too, but I can’t be sure.”

“You’ll _make_ sure. I know you’ll do everything you can.”

Jared lowered his head enough for Adrianne to be able to kiss his crown, then hold him there for a few precious moments of much-needed comfort.

“You know how much I love you, right honey?”

Jared smiled. “I’d say I have a pretty good idea. But it can’t hurt to hear it again every once in a while…”

“Come here,” Adrianne leaned up to take his lips with hers.

Jared put his wine glass aside and pulled her into his arms. This woman was the love of his life, and today’s victory wouldn’t feel half as good if he didn’t have her to share it with. He closed his eyes and let the stream of sensations shut his excessively analytical brain down, until all he could do was feel. The grip of Adrianne’s long fingers around his shoulders, the insistent intrusion of her tongue inside his mouth… in the heat of the moment his mind flashed back to an image of someone he’d met for the first time that morning. Someone he didn’t even look that closely at during said morning.

Jared frowned. It took a moment to put a name to that face, another few to realize he found that face more appealing than any he’d ever laid eyes on before. Suddenly it occurred to him that the name or the face did not belong to his fiancée, Adrianne. But to Jensen Ackles, the Lycan Alpha.

Jared pulled away abruptly and turned his face to one side to avoid meeting Adrianne’s gaze.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“Uh, yes… sorry, just… a little light-headed.”

Jared breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Adrianne pushed him back against the couch. “Lie down, here. You skipped lunch again, didn’t you?”

“…”

“Oh, honey,” Adrianne got up to fetch him a glass of water. “You know you can’t handle alcohol on an empty stomach.”

Jared smiled up at her apologetically as he accepted the water. The apology was less about skipped lunches and more to do with the fear that Jared might now have _two_ secrets from his bride-to-be, instead of just one.

He couldn’t decide which one would hurt her less.

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Juillet, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

**_P &S Associates on Fleet Street,  
_ ** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Jared sat opposite Jensen on a conference table, not as long as the one at the Parliament, but long. Too long, for Jensen’s tastes. The desperate need to get close, to catch a big (well, bigger) whiff of Jared again, was overpowering all his faculties and making it really hard to concentrate.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, after what felt like an eternity, though it’d barely been six minutes since they sat down.

Jared looked up from his multiple digital screens and frowned in question. “What is it, Alpha?”

“Um, sorry Mr. Padalecki but I… I can’t hear you very well.”

Jared just stared at Jensen blankly for a second. Lycans had superlative senses, everybody knew that. Jensen stood up and after awkwardly (and noisily) shifting a couple of chairs out of his way, made it to the other end of the table. Once again, with a few mumbled, hardly sincere apologies, he pulled out the chair closest to Jared, and plonked himself into it. He crossed his legs and rested his own digipad on his lap. And then he grinned.

“This is better. Carry on.”

Jared kept an impressively straight face throughout these… antics. Once the Alpha gave him the go-ahead, he turned back to the document he’d apparently been working on all weekend.

“As I was saying, here on page one-hundred-and-six, you see the specific set of clauses I’ve drafted to mark territorial lines protecting Mer shoals across the Bay…”

Jensen chided himself mentally for allowing himself to be distracted and acting like a ‘love-sick puppy,’ as Misha would say. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the discussion at hand for the next few minutes – just to get through page one-hundred-and-six, he told himself. Before they knew it, they’d been talking for well over ninety minutes.

“Wow, would you look at the time!” Jared stretched and happened to glance at the clock at the back of the meeting room.

Jensen followed his gaze and was just as surprised. Guess time did fly when you were having fun, as per a prehistoric idiom he’d once heard Misha use during a particularly brutal negotiation with the Southland Lycans.

“There are a couple of clauses here banning the use of the Bay for anything other than travel, fishery and distillation. Do you want to go through these today? Or we could call it a day and reconvene tomorrow…”

Jensen bit his lip. If he had his way, he would never leave Jared’s side again. But humans obviously didn’t have the same level of stamina as a Lycan did, and he owed Jared a break.

“How about we take fifteen minutes, but then put our heads down and get this done tonight?”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared looked out the full-length windows. It was dark out already, so ‘tonight’ was appropriate. He could tell Jensen he had other commitments, a life outside the office, a fiancée to go home to. But they were on a roll and given another hour, they _could_ get the papers in the right shape tonight for sign-off. Besides, a part of him was enjoying the Alpha’s company and exclusive attention too much to leave just yet.

“You know what, I don’t need a break. Let’s get this done.”

Jensen beamed at him with what looked like admiration, and relief. “As you wish.”

So Jared pointed them to the next set of paragraphs, and off they went again.

Few associates were working late tonight. Some of them walked by the conference room on their way to or from the coffee machine, peeking in through the glass walls curiously. It wasn’t every day that they hosted the Alpha-apparent of Albion, the guy whose family basically gifted Manchester to the humans. It was a gift many were grateful for, and many resented. They shouldn’t have had to be ‘gifted’ anything to begin with, they claimed.

But inside this conference room, the differences between them didn’t seem to exist. Jared and Jensen worked completely in sync. And both were increasingly, pleasantly, surprised at how easy it was to find common ground.

“Alpha, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything, Mr. Padalecki.”

“I hope you didn’t begrudge me for what I had to do last week at the President’s meeting; for basically diminishing Prince Penikett’s right to influence the agreement. I-I was only doing my job.”

Jensen smiled, and the sincerity in his expression couldn’t possibly be misunderstood. “You did what had to be done. Tahmoh can be quite… let’s just say, obstinate, when it comes to Human-Loric relations. It was a tough call, but I could see you did not make it lightly. That’s why I asked you to take lead.”

Jared just about managed to nod his gratitude to the Alpha. Jensen gently clapped him on his back before looking down at the documents again. And if that miniscule contact sent shivers of something indescribable traveling down the younger being’s spine, he pretended not to have felt it.

The men wore formal business attires – black jacket and trousers with crisp shirts underneath – white in Jared’s case and a dark blue for Jensen. Jared wore a tie while Jensen did not. What they discovered and found oddly entertaining was their shared love for boots. They were both hiding long Westworld-style engraved boots underneath their formal trousers – black for Jared and a dark brown for Jensen. There were a couple of other things that Jared discovered they had in common. Not because they were explicitly exchanging personal trivia, but because Jared was a litigator and he was supposed to be good at this – listening to stuff people said, and reading between the lines for things they didn’t.

He knew Jensen shared his passion for prehistoric literature because he quoted Vonnegut once, and Wilde twice. He figured they shared a great love for the outdoors, especially water bodies, when Jensen so eloquently described how the Bay changed colors across the day, how its waters glittered in sun- _and_ moonshine, and how incredibly humbling it was to swim with the ancient whales in the Alaskan ocean.

The more he got to know the Alpha, the more he admired him. Jared couldn’t reconcile his impressions with the hard stance his mother often took against the Lorics. She would always sound so bitter and angry when she spoke of them, especially Lycans. But Jensen had been nothing but chivalrous and kind. At least so far.

Jared wondered if this kindness would evaporate into thin air if the Alpha discovered what Jared really was. He never wanted to find out.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

“All right, looks like that’s the last of it. We’re done.”

Jensen blinked at Jared, in what was surprise but also looked a bit like disappointment. “We’re done?”

“All that’s left to do now is send this up to the firm partners for approval. Then the Ministers will review it and make recommendations to the President on whether she should sign it or not. But that’s just a formality. They may come back with a few edits though…”

Jensen frowned but Jared quickly assured him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fielding all their edits and you’ll have a chance to review them again, if you want to.”

The Lycan tapped his fingers on the table as he deliberated. Then making his mind up, he exhaled. “I trust you, Jared. But this is my responsibility, so I will want to review any changes anyone makes, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Jensen’s eyes stayed on the human’s face for a while longer. Jared felt captured in his piercing green gaze, unable to look away. It was the Alpha who looked away first, glanced at his watch briefly and looked up again.

“Um, so… do you any plans for dinner tonight?”

Jared frowned, not sure he understood for a moment. And then suddenly he did. His mouth fell open in genuine befuddlement, not sure how to extricate himself without disappointing the Alpha.

“I… uh, I’ve got this thing, with the, um… well…”

But the Alpha made it easy on him and backed off immediately. “Enough said. I’ll let you get to it then.”

His face was a picture of cool, unaffected composure, not even a blip of displeasure evident. Maybe it was a skill one honed with decades and decades of practice. Maybe it really wasn’t as big a deal as Jared was making it out to be?

The Alpha stood up and re-buttoned his jacket. “All right, I will see you at the next meeting then?”

Jared stuttered, unsure how to react to this abrupt segue to goodbye. “Yes, at the Parliament offices in two days.”

“Sounds good. I’ll – uh – I’ll see you then!”

“See you, Je-… I mean… Alpha.”

Jensen was at the door with his back towards Jared, when he stilled and turned around again. “Jensen is fine. See you soon, Jared.”

They exchanged one last nod and a smile, and then the Alpha was gone. Jared felt suddenly bereft, like the sun just sank into a dark, nuclear raincloud, never to emerge again. He shook his head to rid himself of these confusing (and hyper-dramatic) thoughts, then picked up his stuff and went home to his fiancée.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Juillet, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Parliamentary Conference Center,  
_ ** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

The press conference was due to begin in exactly nine minutes. And according to the limo’s AI, they were still eighteen minutes away. Misha popped his knees restlessly, getting increasingly more agitated every minute they sat in the horrendous traffic.

“This is ridiculous,” Jensen said eventually, but he wasn’t talking about the traffic. “It’s too early to be talking about this. We haven’t even signed the papers yet.”

Misha went to the minibar and poured himself two fingers of bourbon to help calm his nerves. “Tapping is about to announce her bid for re-election in the winter, and this deal is the illustrious feather in her cap, so to speak. That’s why your presence there is crucial to her.”

Jensen sighed. “I get that. But it seems premature. Plus it makes me feel like I’m being paraded out for show.” 

“Of course you are! You’re the proof in the pudding, window dressing on the new house that us Mancunians are looking forward to move into, soon as the deal is signed of course.”

Jensen scoffed, “Your appropriation of ancient proverbs leaves a lot to be desired, my friend.”

He looked out the window and shook his head. “Forty million souls squished together on this island. No wonder you never seem to get anywhere on time.”

As expected, the conference got delayed by about twenty minutes. President Tapping did not look pleased. Jensen explained how long he was stuck in traffic, expecting her to jump on it as another good reason to make this deal. Not that the Ackles needed any more motivation. Instead, she turned to him and said, “My opinion, Alpha? This is precisely why a man of your stature needs a better personal assistant than Mr. Collins over there.”

Jensen just smiled wryly at her, before she walked away to get ready for the conference. He turned to smirk at Misha standing a few feet away, who threw back a confused look that Jensen ignored.

As Misha forecasted, the conference was mainly about Tapping’s re-election bid, with the occasional reference to the historic agreement in the making. Every time Jensen’s name was mentioned, the Alpha remembered to smile. Other than that, he kept his face lowered, not comfortable with the intense scrutiny that the human media frequently directed his way.

“And of course, our many thanks go to Alpha-apparent Ackles, for carrying forward the generous tradition of his ancestor, Grand Alpha Gordon Ackles, who bequeathed the island of Manchester to our ancestors three thousand years ago. And now his great-great-great grandson is here to help us expand the human legacy…”

Jensen sighed and tuned her out. The one thing that made him more uncomfortable than media attention was being compared to his Ackles legacy, especially since Gordon Ackles wasn’t _exactly_ his ancestor. Jensen had been adopted by Alan when Alan bonded with his mother, Hilarie of the Burton pack. But humans didn’t know that, nor did they need to.

“Alpha Ackles,” someone whispered beside him to catch his attention. Jensen turned and came face-to-face with a prominent Mancunian who’d also been invited by President Tapping to provide ‘window dressing’ to her show.

“Curtis Armstrong,” the man offered with a smile, and extended a hand for Jensen to shake.

Jensen gripped the slightly sweaty, kind of feeble palm, and smiled back. “Yes, CEO of Armstrong Industries. Pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s my honor, entirely, Alpha. Not sure if you’re aware, we’re scheduled to meet next week to discuss the…”

“The weapon systems that you’ll be supplying to us, yes. I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Armstrong.”

“Excellent, as am I!” the businessman beamed, pleased that the Lycans he was about to go into (incredibly lucrative) business with had done their homework.

An awkward silence followed. Jensen turned away from the mousy little man with peppered hair and glassy eyes, towards the ongoing conference. A minute later, the human tugged at Jensen’s sleeve again. He tilted his head towards Armstrong but kept his eyes on the proceedings ahead.

“Are you familiar with the ancient human religious texts, Alpha?”

“Which one?”

Armstrong started; he probably hadn’t expected that answer. Or maybe he wasn’t aware there was more than one.

“The Christian Bible.”

“Yes, I’m familiar.”

Armstrong smiled then, clearly pleased. “Then I must share this with you, Alpha. I’ve always thought of the Lycans of Albion as Lupus Dei. You of course know what that means…”

“Uh…”

“Wolves of God. Guardian angels with a mission from God himself, put on earth to protect the people of Manchester in this post-apocalyptic mess of a world.”

“That’s… very flattering indeed.”

“Well, many people think of angels as cherubs, little babies with fluffy white wings, inspiring love and warmth and tenderness…”

Jensen squinted, even pouted a little. The monstrous fit his dad, both of them, would have if they ever heard Lycans being described as such…

“They’re dead wrong, of course.”

“Are they?”

“Truth is, the angels of the Lord were fierce, powerful warriors armed to the teeth with the most fearsome weapons in all of creation. Their true calling was to deliver God’s wrath to all agents of evil, and justice to sinners that stray from the divine path.”

That sounded way cooler. Of course Jensen still wasn’t sure where this was going.

“And in this age of uncertainty, when there is evil rising from the underworld once more, it is time for our angels to weapon up. That’s where I come in, Alpha. That is my life’s mission and purpose, to arm you, be your shield while _you_ shield the world.”

Jensen didn’t know how to react. The entendre equating Southlands to the underworld was clever. But the rest of it was… Jensen could only hope he was joking. But chances were Curtis Armstrong was one of those trumps Misha kept warning him about. He seemed to truly believe in the craziness he was spewing.

The crowd suddenly erupted into a loud applause, thankfully distracting them and saving Jensen from having to respond. He clapped his hands vigorously, even though he had no idea what’d been said.

Across the stage in the wings stood Jared, flanked on each side by his colleagues from the law firm – Adam Fergus and Emily Swallow. Jensen spotted Jared leaning towards Emily, engrossed in what looked like an animated conversation. He wondered what they were talking about but tried not to eavesdrop. Still kept the human in the corner of his eye though, unable to resist the tall, elegant form that somehow looked both angelic and sinful at once ( _“and damn you, Armstrong.”_ )

The press was now allowed to ask questions and Tapping and her Vice President were busy fielding them one by one. Someone asked a question about the Mers of the Bay. It immediately peeled Jensen’s attention back to the discussion.

“Madam President, how exactly did you overcome the Mers’ reluctance to sign over the Bay?”

Amanda briefly glanced towards Jared, before beginning her answer. Jensen for one couldn’t be more proud.

“Well, as with everything my government has accomplished in the last six years, it was achieved with teamwork, dedication, diligence, and perseverance.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, so much for credit where credit’s due. He caught Jared’s gaze and saw no malice or disappointment in his face at all. What a wonder that boy was.

Speaking of the Mers, he checked his phone again to see if Tahmoh responded to the voice mails Jensen left him, assuring him in every way he could think of, in thirty seconds or less. Tahmoh had ignored all his calls since the big meeting last week. He looked down at his empty mailbox and sighed. Guess he’d just have to pay the Mers a visit.

He firmly believed there was nothing to worry about. He had personally, together with the human lawyer, made sure of that. Now if only he could get Tahmoh to believe that.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

On the other side of the stage, Jared asked Emily where Mark was tonight. “I’m pretty sure he was planning to be here.”

Emily twisted her mouth to one side. “Had to cancel last minute for some development in Man. versus Benedict. He’s been busy, but you’ll see him at the fundraiser this Friday. You and Adie are coming, right?”

Jared grimaced, “I don’t know. With the wedding just five days away, and all these traditional ceremonies Adie is planning – the pre-events, the post-events, the relatives coming into Cathedral from all over the continent…”

Emily giggled. “You knew she was both obsessive-compulsive _and_ old-school when you proposed. Didn’t think ahead on this one, did you, Einstein?”

“Apparently not,” he sighed. “Did you know there’s this really weird custom where the groom is supposed to remove a piece of like, lacy lingerie…?”

“The garter, you mean,” Emily smirked. Obviously she knew what he was talking about.

Jared’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Yes! And I’m supposed to remove that from like around her thigh, from _under_ her dress that she refuses to let me even see by the way, and I’m supposed to do it in front of everyone?!?”

Emily giggled behind her hand, clearly enjoying his predicament as much as Adie did.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love her to death. But seriously, there’s got to be a limit to the amount of humiliation I must personally endure just to get married to this woman, you know?”

Emily was laughing pretty uncontrollably by this point. So engrossed were they in each other that they didn’t notice the Alpha staring at them from across the stage, petrified in his spot. Thanks to his superhuman hearing (and uncontrollable curiosity when it came to Jared), Jensen had caught every word of that conversation.

Jared was engaged to be married, in five days.

Conference be damned. The wolf inside chose that moment to protect itself. All his Lycan senses pulled inwards. The world and its contents dimmed in both sight and sound, giving Jensen the privacy to pull himself together, and quietly walk away.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Août, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

**_P &S Associates on Fleet Street,  
_ ** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Three days after the conference, Jared strode into the office in a pair of tattered jeans and a gray sweatshirt with the words Oxbridge University emblazoned in the back. He was unfazed by the disapproving looks thrown his way as he marched into Adam Fergus’ tiny cubicle, and slammed a digipad down on the associate’s desk with a loud thwack.

“What is this?”

Adam was nearly falling asleep in his chair when Jared stormed in on him. “Jared, what are you doing here? I thought Mark gave you extra time off for your wedding…”

“I’m getting married, I’m not _dead_ , Fergus. What are these edits you’ve made to the draft? Who approved these?”

Adam squinted at Jared’s screen and immediately began stuttering. “I-I don’t know, those are n-not my edits.”

“What do you mean those are not your edits? You’re the last one to have checked out this document.”

“Yes, but… let me look up the timestamp for you, one second.” Adam drummed a bunch of keys to pull up the document logs and pointed them to Jared. “Look, these edits you’re talking about? Different from the edits I made, here.”

Jared frowned. “Why is there no login information for these edits? Our system doesn’t allow anonymous access does it?”

Adam shook his head helplessly. “It’s not _supposed_ to.”

Jared frowned. Something wasn’t right. Someone had hacked into the firm’s systems and was tampering with the carefully constructed and reviewed language of this agreement. But it wasn’t clear why.

Jared felt personally responsible for this deal, and not just because the Alpha would hold him accountable. That was why even though he was supposed to have this time off, Jared had been monitoring progress on the document every day.

Fergus was useless, as usual. And the ultra-confidential nature of this deal meant he couldn’t discuss it with just anyone. No, Jared knew he needed to talk to Mark. That was the only way they could do something to get to the heart of this… whatever this was.

“Do you know where Mark is? I didn’t see him in his office, and Emily is busy too.”

Adam again shrugged lamely. “Mark’s been sort of missing in action all week, but he’s still going to the capital fundraiser tonight. He'd better, or Emily might just kill him.”

“Okay, good. Guess I’ll just catch him there.”

Jared had been planning to skip it. But this may be the fastest way to get hold of the boss. He must let Mark know of a possible political conspiracy that the firm was getting embroiled into. Surely Mark would know what to do.

“Don’t publish this yet, Adam. Not without checking with me first, is that understood?”

Adam nodded quickly and only then did Jared stalk off. Once Adam was sure the junior partner had left the building, he grabbed his phone and made an encrypted call.

“Yes, it’s me. Jared was here just now. And he was asking all sorts of questions about your edits…”

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****


	4. Chapter 4

####    
Août, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Capital City Hall  
_ ** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Jensen slumped in his tall chair at the bar trying to avoid recognition, trying and failing miserably. The low growl emanating deep from within his chest did succeed in keeping most of the groupies away. Some days it was really good to be part wolf. And by some he kind of meant _all_.

Unfortunately even the wolf had its limits, and continued to fail to keep a certain blue-eyed lawyer slash personal advisor on human affairs slash friend away.

“Drinking alone, I see. Not that you could get drunk, but nothing will stop you from trying, will it?” Misha smirked as he took a seat right next to Jensen without asking for permission.

Jensen turned sideways towards Misha, and that’s when the human saw it – the heavy drooping of his insanely long eyelashes, the more-than-relaxed posture not commonly seen in Lycans.

“You laced your drink with aconite again?”

“It’s the only way I can enjoy these brilliant human concoctions, Mr. Collins. You know that. So how long do I need to be here again?”

Misha sighed. He’d brought Jensen out here in hopes to interrupt the Alpha’s latest round of brooding with a spot of fun. But Jensen seemed to have taken the unavailability of a certain baby-faced overachiever harder than he’d ever taken anything before.

“We can leave whenever you wish. But I was hoping you’d at least take a look around, see all these people you’ve magnetized with your charm, Alpha. Look how they’re all just dying to get closer, desperate for a little whiff of your exotic, mythical hormones, if you’d only let them.”

Jensen scowled. “Collins, please don’t ever try to flatter me or my hormones again. Like… ever.”

He raised his glass of bourbon with a clear intent to down it in one go, when suddenly Misha’s hand shot out and took hold of Jensen’s glass before it could reach his lips.

“What the hell?” The Alpha’s first reaction was to growl and lash out with the back of his hand. But he reined the wolf back in and settled for a quick, disapproving glower instead.

“You may want to hold off on the rest of that poison for now,” Misha mumbled in a voice lower than usual, then nodded towards something, or someone, in his line of sight just behind Jensen.

The Lycan blinked, his five senses already attuning to the presence behind him. With a deep breath, he turned to find Jared stepping in through the hall’s main doors.

The human walked in slightly hunched over, as if he were just as unused to these social gatherings as Jensen. He pulled his jacket off, refused to let a valet have it, and then scanned the magnificently architected hall as if looking for someone specific. Jensen held no delusions about where he stood in the human’s eyes. But he couldn’t help but straighten up, anxious but hopeful, when Jared’s eyes landed on him, and stayed.

“I thought you said he wasn’t coming,” Jensen whispered to Misha, while softly nodding at the lawyer, granting him permission to approach.

“It’s what I was told,” Misha whispered back then stood up. He lowered his mouth close to the back of Jensen’s head. “Remember: a human marriage isn’t the same as a Lycan bond. It doesn’t always last for life.”

Jensen couldn’t turn around to glare at him because he was too busy watching Jared walk over to him, slowly but deliberately. Like a man approaching a wild Tibetan horse.

“Alpha,” Jared bowed briefly when he reached audible distance. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

“Not at all! Come, have a seat, Mr. Padalecki. How… how’ve you been?”

The aconite-induced buzz he’d been working on all night evaporated at the first whiff of Jared’s scent in his nose.

Jared looked tired, a little hassled. Maybe it was all the preparation that went into traditional human weddings, or so Jensen had heard. He was also having a little trouble meeting Jensen’s eyes, which was very unlike the Jared Jensen had gotten to know in these past couple of weeks.

“Is everything all right?”

Jared looked up in mild alarm. “Yes! Of c-course, everything’s fine. I-I just wanted to let you know that… the agreement…”

“Yes?”

Jared swallowed hard. Jensen could clearly hear it.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of it before I leave for… well, I never got a chance to tell you. I’m… getting married in two days, on Sunday actually. B-But I’m still looking this over and… I will not shirk my responsibility towards you, Alpha. I promise you that.”

Jensen didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never doubted it, Mr. Padalecki, not once.”

The smile that spread across his face was too honest, and too infectious for Jensen to ignore. He relaxed in his seat beside the human and smiled back with as much reassurance as he could.

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. I did know you were getting married, yes. A pre-historic ceremony, I hear?”

“Uh, yes, a very traditional ceremony, or _ceremonies_ , I should say. And it’s been…” Jared huffed, laughed and nearly sobbed all at the same time. “…a little stressful, as you can imagine.”

“No, I can’t but, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful. Is your… betrothed here tonight?”

“No, Adrianne, my fiancée – she had simply too much to do, too many arrangements to double-check and triple-check. She’s a little… well, the term we use is OCD, not sure if you’ve ever heard of it.”

“I have, and I know what you mean. My mother fits that description perfectly,” Jensen chuckled. “Well, it looks like you may be in dire need of a drink. May I get you something? From the bar that’s right here?”

Jared chuckled and ordered a Sazerac for himself while Jensen stuck to his bourbon, the non-spiked variety. He wasn’t sure it was the best decision though, because now he was inescapably conscious of the beautiful being beside him. Every word that left Jared’s mouth. Every gesture of his long, manicured fingers. Every little expression curling around his soft red lips. Each iota of his distinctively sweet scent. Everything about Jared made Jensen fall in love more and more.

“Anyway,” Jared breathed out at some point. “I just wanted to… come over and say thanks, Alpha. Working with you on this deal has been the most enlightening experience of my life so far.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Jensen smirked. “How so?”

Jared didn’t need to think. “You reminded me why I became a litigator in the first place. I once believed, like you do, that it is my moral obligation as a sentient being to speak for the ones who can’t speak for themselves. You showed me, through your words and your actions that with power comes responsibility. And that no power is worth respecting if it’s not exercised with compassion.”

Jensen nodded and smiled at Jared gently. “You showed me something too, Jared. That not all humans are deserving of the Lorics’ distrust. You’ve opened my eyes to a whole world of new possibilities and you’ve given me… hope.”

“Thanks,” Jared grinned brightly but then squinted. “Wait, what about Mr. Collins?”

“Well, of course I trust Misha, but he’s _barely_ human, so he doesn’t count.”

Jensen was joking of course. And yet something in Jared’s eyes faltered before quickly fading away. He looked down into his drink, then a second later downed it all in one go.

“It’d be nice if you could come to the wedding…” he said, a little too politely. “I mean, Adie’s head might explode if I asked her to re-do the seating arrangements again, but I’m sure she’ll live…”

Jensen chuckled softly but shook his head. “Please convey my very best to your would-be wife, my friend. Hope I get the chance to meet her someday, the woman that makes you whole…”

Jared’s eyes softened. “I’d really like that.”

Somewhere in the distance, a group of clearly inebriated people burst into loud, boisterous laughter, causing both Jared and Jensen to look their way. Mark Pellegrino happened to be one of them.

“Mark,” Jared whispered and abruptly stood up. “Apologies, Alpha, I need to go catch Mark.”

“It was a pleasure, Mr. Padalecki,” Jensen extended his hand and waited for Jared to take it.

This was only the second time they’d ever touched each other. The effect was immediate and mutual, though neither Jensen nor Jared acknowledged it.

Jensen pulled his hand away as politely as he could, then watched the man of his dreams turn away and walk brusquely towards his boss. Jared seemed so intent on getting to Pellegrino that he forgot to pick up the jacket he’d slung around the back of his chair. Jensen sat down in his seat and picked his glass up again, watching the jacket quietly for a couple of minutes.

_“There’s one court in particular. It’s called the Chatoyant. Very high-end, very tasteful, very discreet. And I think someone as open-minded and adventurous as you might really like it…”_

Jensen turned away from the jacket, and from Jared. He concentrated on his drink, blocking every sound and sight around him. It worked, for a little bit. Until it didn’t.

The Alpha made a decision, probably the worst of his life. He picked up the jacket, smelled it briefly, making sure no one saw him doing it. Then he stood up to go find Misha.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Just as Jensen was exiting the building alone (without Misha), Jared was trying to corner Mark alone for a very serious conversation. He finally managed to sit them down on a table far away from the crowd, with a pair of drinks, both of which belonged to Mark.

“Mark, please, I don’t think you’re seeing the gravity of the situation here.”

Mark rubbed the creases of his forehead with the knuckles of his left hand. “Honestly, I don’t understand what the fuss is. So what if they changed the word ‘regulated’ to ‘monitored’ – aren’t they simply synonyms in this context? Really, Jared, we don’t have time for nitpicking here.”

“This isn’t nitpicking, Mark. If you read the document carefully, you’ll see the difference between those two words could mean a huge loophole that could be exploited to violate sovereignty of the Mers in the Bay!”

“Listen to yourself, Jared. You sound just like those arrogant Lorics! You’re accusing humans of not being able or not intending to uphold their end of the agreement already? Without proof?”

“All I’m saying is, fifty, hundred years down the line, what if the Mers need protecting but you and I aren’t here to explain and abide by the spirit of the agreement? There will only be the letter and it may not be enough. You know we can’t take that chance.”

Mark huffed in exasperation. “Jared, you and I might be good friends outside of work. But I still happen to be your boss so please, don’t ever try to tell me what I do and don’t know. I’ve been at this longer than you have, kid. Don’t forget that.”

“O-of course, I didn’t mean…”

“And in my experience,” Mark interrupted crossly, “an agreement that’s written in plain and simple Humanish is far less susceptible to misinterpretation than an agreement that’s filled with big, complex words. That’s all the review committee is trying to do here, don’t you see?”

Jared bit his lip, not very convinced. “W-what about the anonymous logins and edits? Don’t you find that a little suspicious?”

Mark sighed. “Yes, that part is concerning and also impossible. I’m sure it’s just a glitch in the system but I’m going to look into it first thing tomorrow morning, all right?”

Jared sighed, mildly relieved. “Thanks. And once your investigation is complete, we must roll back all those spurious edits, obviously.”

“Obviously. But for now, Jared, my man…” Mark stood up and clasped Jared by the shoulders, raising him to his feet as well. They were both practically the same height so Mark could look straight into Jared’s eyes as he said the following words. “You really should be concentrating on getting married, don’t you think?”

Jared closed his eyes and winced, “Trust me, I’m trying. But this deal…”

Mark leaned in closer. “Tell you what, if you’re not satisfied with the final draft, or if you believe there is any chance of a misinterpretation or abuse down the line, I authorize you to bring it up with the Alpha before his father signs the papers. You have the ultimate veto power here, kiddo, because you have the ear of the ‘man in charge’. How about that?”

Jared bit his lip and thought about it. “Okay, but will you promise me nothing will go up to the President’s desk for signing until I am back in office on Monday?”

“What?! Don’t tell me you’re postponing the honeymoon!”

“This is more important, Mark. Adrianne will just have to understand.”

Mark huffed again and looked down at his shoes for a while. But then he looked up and vehemently nodded. “All right. You got yourself a deal, my man. Now please do us all a favor and get out of here. Go back to your fiancée, enjoy your last few moments of freedom, whatever. Just let me get back to my clients here, all right?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you very much, boss.” Jared left with a swift handshake and a smile.

Soon as he was out of earshot, Mark went out to the terrace for some privacy. He found a far corner with no one around and made the call.

“This is Mark. We have to move now, this is our only window of opportunity… we have no choice. Making him go away will only raise red flags and even discourage the Lycans from coming back to the table. No, we need to discredit him… completely and irrefutably.”

Whatever the voice at the other end of the line said, it made Mark look up into the skies. A second later, a hovercraft appeared on top of the terrace, silent as a bat.

Mark watched as the autonomous vehicle pulled up right next to him. Then he responded to the voice in his ear. “Consider it done.”

He flicked the phone off and with one last look at the party to make sure there were no witnesses, he climbed into the hovercraft and flew away.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Août, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_The Cordillera,  
_ ** **_Albion_ **

 

After Stormway, Jensen couldn’t bear the prospect of coming face-to-face with the real Jared. After what happened… what _he did_ , at the Court. So Jensen retreated home instead.

He left Misha a message to push the meeting with Armstrong to the following week. Then he switched the autonomous AI on his yacht off and manually sailed to his Lycan homeland.

Albion.

The New Tibet Accord may have brought about peace between the various humanoid races. But it had also placed a number of restrictions on each race to maintain that peace moving forward. For instance, one rule expressly stated that Lorics were not allowed to shift to their pure forms on human territory. It was basically a sub-clause within a larger clause that said Lorics will not use their ‘parahuman’ abilities to interfere in human affairs without invitation, no matter what.

What that meant was – Jensen hadn’t shifted into his pure wolf form in weeks. And the beast inside was none too happy about that. So once he reached Albion, Jensen ripped his shirt open and let the wolf out.

The Lycan wolf was about the same size as its corresponding humanoid form. So since Jensen’s humanoid self was six feet one inch tall, so was his wolf form, which was pretty damn tall as far as regular wolves go. He was also proportionately wider and heavier, and ten times more conspicuous than the guy who slunk around Cathedral for the past three weeks, trying his best (and failing) to be invisible.  

Soon after dropping anchor, Jensen left all his human devices and clothes on the boat, shed his human form and took off running like his life depended on it. His peers often described him with words like majestic and magnificent. His pitch-black coat of fur apparently shone so bright in the moonlight that one could see, with the naked eye, an actual halo of electric blue encircling his silhouette. His eyes that were a deep sea-green, both in human and wolf form, were said to be hypnotically persuasive, a quality that would one day serve him well as the next High Alpha of Albion.

Three weeks ago, that was the future Jensen did envision for himself, and he was more than happy with the prospect of inheriting such a great and noble station in the mega-pack. But now, all his thoughts and priorities had become so… short-sighted and shallow. Seriously, who needed love and a… a mate when they could be the most powerful Lycan, and one of the most influential Lorics, on all three continents?

Jensen shook his head and growled, agitated by the endless whirlwind of thoughts. He ran and he ran, away from Manchester, from Jared, from the confusing jumble of emotions he’d never felt before. Not once in all eighty-four years of his life. Not all at once, at least.

He ran for two nights and two days, until the scent of the changing flora informed him he’d now entered the territory of the Ackles cordillera – the expansive family estate that spread across the northern range of mountains that were once known as the Alps. It was for all intents and purposes the capital of Albion, where the Northern Lycans High Council met under the leadership of the High Alpha to discuss matters of state.  Many Lycan packs resided in Albion, as did other Lorics too, but this part of the continent was predominantly wolf just like the Westworld was predominantly feline. Ackles were the First Family, the pack in charge, so to speak, and had been for over six millennia.

The cordillera was also the place Jensen, his half-sister, and parents still called home. The thought of seeing three of his favorite beings in the world spurred him on and he ran harder, longing to feel some modicum of comfort that a Lycan felt only in the company of their pack-mates.

Halfway through the third night, he caught a new scent in the wind that startled him at first. In a matter of seconds it got closer and grew stronger and familiar, until it made Jensen smile.

“Welcome home, brother!”

Kathryn, a female Alpha, stormed up the incline in massive strides until she was running neck-and-neck beside Jensen. She was gloriously golden from head to toe, starkly contrasted with her big brother, though she had the same sea-green eyes – their mother, Hilarie’s eyes. She was smaller and younger, and maybe a bit less stronger though none would dare state that opinion out loud, not in front of her if they wanted to live. But she was smarter, more strong-willed and more tenacious. And that, in Jensen’s book, made her a bigger badass than any Lycan _he_ knew.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Kat!”

He could see her pupils twinkling with joy one moment, and concern the next. “What happened? What is wrong?”

Jensen rolled his own eyes and looked away, picking up speed to get up the mountain, hoping he could make Kathryn fall a step behind, or two. But she was having none of it.

“Talk to me, brother. You know I can always tell when you’re troubled. Did the deal not go through?”

Jensen sighed and slowed down, until they came to a full stop by a stream of crystal clear water. Jensen buried his entire face and neck into the water practically drowning himself, only just realizing how parched he was.

“The deal is happening,” he replied, shaking his head furiously and sending gigantic splashes of water everywhere. Good thing Kathryn was used to her brother’s capers by now, and easily side-stepped his attempts to spray her.

“I worked out all the details, they should be transmitting the papers any day now. Once Dad signs them, it’s all done.”

“That’s great! So what’s bothering you then?” Kathryn came closer when Jensen pretended to go back to drinking the water. She sniffed at him curiously.

“Wow, you are reeking… of… is that… _shifter_?”

“What? Still?” Jensen groaned. He’d hoped the long hard run would have washed the scent off.

Kathryn took one more sniff, and her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Oh, brother…” and that just made Jensen groan more.

“I suppose the cordillera would just have to wait. We’re taking a detour.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are. We have to wait for the scent to dissipate. Unless you _want_ to explain to our parents why their only son slept with a shifter.”

Jensen glared at his half-sister. “I am twelve years older than you, Kathryn Newton Ackles, in case you forgot…”

She just scoffed at him and gestured for him to follow, which Jensen did.

The siblings spent the rest of the night and most of the next day catching up. They swam in the freshly thawed Lake Lucerne, ran some more, played in the foliage starting to gather in the onset of autumn, rolling around and roughhousing like when they were pups. They hunted wild boar for dinner, and Jensen hogged (pun totally intended) like he hadn’t eaten in three days, which was actually true. The next evening when it started to get dark again, they built a little bonfire, lazed around it and talked.

Jensen told Kathryn everything that happened in the human city, and when it was all said and done, he did feel better, just as Kat intended. She’d always been intuitive that way.

“It was Sunday yesterday,” she mentioned quietly, after a spell of silence.

“Yes, he’d be a married man by now.” Jensen sighed and looked up into the evening sky. “How did you do it, Kat? How did you… move on?”

Kathryn curled her bushy tail around herself and put her head down beside her front paws.

“I’m not sure I ever did. It’s only been – what – six years since Steven died?”

Jensen winced, regretting having reminded Kat of her lost love. “Sorry, Kat.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I’m not being very helpful. At least we didn’t _bond_ with them, but that’s just a biological imperative. The heart is a different matter.”

Jensen stared into the fire for a long time. “Humans are surprisingly easy to fall in love with, aren’t they?”

Kat smiled at him wistfully.

“You with Steven, Jeff with Andrew… me and Jared… at least Dad had a successful love.”

“Successful? That’s a curious description.”

“What would you call it?”

“I don’t know, _requited_ maybe? I mean, love is love. It’s wanting to make someone truly happy while asking for nothing in return. It’s thinking of someone else ahead of yourself. Even when they’re… no longer around to see it.”

Jensen exhaled, at a loss for words for a few, surprisingly calm moments. After a while, he stood up and with a single swipe of his gigantic paw, put the fire out.

“Come on, sister. It’s time to go home.”

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Août, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Ackles family mansion  
_ ** **_Albion_ **

 

The forty feet high gates started to slide open soon as the siblings were spotted bounding up the mountain. Once they were inside the mansion, they were greeted by two Beta helpers holding up two plush, faux-fur floor-length robes in the two colors corresponding to each sibling – black for Jensen and golden for Kathryn. They elegantly shifted to human forms and donned their respective robes, tightening the satin sashes around their waists to accentuate the A-lines of their attire.

“Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Jensen mock-moaned in pleasure as he stepped into a pair of soft and luxurious slippers, making Kathryn giggle.

“Oh son, you have no idea!”

The siblings looked up to find their mother, the High Beta, at the top of the grand staircase that ran along both the east and west ends of the magnificent hall.

Hilarie Burton Ackles rushed toward her son in a dark green, long-flowing dress and four-inch heels with zero regard for her own safety. Humans would look at her and her mannerisms, and peg her to be no more than thirty. It amused Jensen to no end that this beautiful, childlike Lycan was over two centuries old.

“Mother…” he caught her as she came flying into his arms. She hugged him tightly, more tightly than she had in quite some time.

Jensen frowned, “Is everything all right?”

Hilarie pulled away and looked up into his face. “You tell me! You have been unreachable for four days! And you, young lady?” She swung towards Kathryn, who instantly shrugged her shoulders like she’d no idea what her mom was on about. “You have been gone for two! Would it kill you to let me know before you disappear like that?”

“I didn’t know I’d be gone for that long. And besides I’m not a pup anymore, mother, seriously!”

Hilarie gave up on her, and when Jensen made the mistake of smirking she turned her ire back onto him. “I’m not done with you, Jensen! Misha has been frantically trying to get in touch with you. He called so many times, I got worried.”

Jensen just pulled Hilarie close to his side, then started leading her and Kat towards their private wing in the east. “Where’s Dad?”

“Somewhere over the Indian Ocean, I imagine. He’ll be back in the morning. But son, Misha, he sounded so… panicked…”

“I’ll call him.”

Hilarie gave him the look. Jensen huffed. “Right now. I’ll call him right now.”

“Please, thank you. He said it was urgent.”

 “Did he say what it was about?”

She was already walking away to her suite when she replied, “He just asked me to have you call him before you turn on the human news…”

Jensen frowned, his hackles rising. Kathryn must have sensed it too because instead of going to her suite, she followed Jensen into his. He made a beeline to his study, brought up the digital panel on his desk then quickly made a call. Two rings later, a holographic Misha popped up hovering over the table.

“Thank Continents you’re okay! If you were on human territory you would have been declared missing after 24 hours and your body would have been fished out of the river in 48.”

Jensen smirked. “There’s a river in Manchester?” Knowing fully well there wasn’t, and that in fact was a big reason humans wanted the Bay of Eritrea in a hurry.

“I take it you haven’t heard yet?”

“Heard what?”

“…”

“Misha, what is it? Something wrong with the deal? Are the humans not willing to sign it?”

“No, the deal is fine, the papers were transmitted to your father this morning with your recorded message saying that you’ve looked it over and approved it. Alan signed it and sent it back about three hours ago.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Jensen could hear Misha breathe heavily on the other end. “It’s Jared.”

“What about him?”

“He… that night after the fundraiser, apparently he went home and had a big fight with his fiancée and… Jensen, he murdered her.”

“WHAT???”

“They’re calling it a crime of passion. Apparently the couple argued over wedding arrangements and it turned ugly. He… he hit her with a statue or something, bashed her head in.”

“I don’t believe it. Jared? Jared Padalecki?”

“They have irrefutable evidence, Jensen. Fingerprints, DNA, it’s been all over the news for three days.”

“But why? Why would he kill the woman who was the love of his life?”

“Maybe he didn’t _mean_ to, maybe the run-up to the wedding got too stressful for him. Maybe something, or someone, caused him to question and doubt his feelings, who knows?”

Jensen swallowed hard, not entirely sure how to react to that subtle… accusation.

“Look Jensen, the justice system here is extremely swift. Verdict was passed yesterday morning and he was sentenced to… to…”

“No… no Misha, don’t say it…”

Kathryn walked closer and put a steadying hand on Jensen’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Jensen. But there’s more. A lot more.”

“What else can there be?”

Misha sounded like he’d lost his nerve to keep going. Jensen watched him pour himself a drink. “I think it’d be best if you switched on the news now.”

Kathryn touched another couple of keys on the panel until a gigantic digital screen flickered to life, then tuned it to the Manchester news channel. A Detective Kurt Fuller was on screen, standing at the stairs outside Cathedral police headquarters, being interviewed by a swarm of reporters about the latest on the Palicki murder case.

“Yes, we can now confirm that of the two convicts who attempted to escape their transport to incarceration, only one succeeded. The body of one Jared Padalecki has been found from the Reading woods. Dead by gunshot.”

Jensen felt his knees buckle and he slowly crumpled to the floor. Kathryn watched him closely, as did Misha, but they both let him be.

“The other convict – Ty Olsson is still at large. However one of the officers who was in pursuit is positive that Olsson was also fatally shot. So we expect his body to show up soon as well.”

“Detective Fuller!” A reporter from the crowd called out, “Could this tragedy have been prevented? How did the convicts manage to escape in the first place?”

Fuller seemed to scoff. “I don’t know if I’d call it a tragedy. Olsson was a known anarchist and Padalecki just murdered his fiancée. Both convicts were sentenced to death by lethal injection tomorrow morning. So as it turns out, their attempt to escape only accelerated their execution. As to how they managed to escape… well, as we revealed earlier, the convicts tried to hack into the transporter that was driving them to Wembley prison. The AI alerted the escort cop car. The cops manually brought the transporter to a full stop and boarded. That’s when the two convicts physically assaulted…”

Jensen still couldn’t believe it. None of this – none of this sounded like the Jared he’d gotten to know and fallen in love with. But then he hadn’t known the guy was engaged to be married either. Hell, did Jensen know him at all?

“Brother…” Kathryn tried, but Jensen waved her away and stood up on shaking legs. He ignored Misha and his attempts at condolences, and turned towards his bedroom. He was exhausted.

“Wake me when… when father arrives. Need to debrief him. On the deal and everything.”

The door to the bedroom closed quietly behind him, leaving Kathryn alone and turning towards Misha on the phone.

“Give him time,” she told him. “He will recover, he usually does.”

“ _Usually_ ,” Misha echoed somberly, before disconnecting the call.

 

 

** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- **

**  
**


	5. Chapter 5

#### Février, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Chatoyant Court  
_ _Stormway, Manchester_**

Alaina was engrossed deeply in her daily report when someone knocked at her door.

“Enter.”

Matt Cohen poked his head in. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, come in, Matt,” Alaina smiled as not-stiffly as possible.

The thirty-two year old walked into her office in a bright pink t-shirt and white cargo shorts. His black hair was shiny and slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower. His face was smooth-shaven, showing off his very attractive jawline, and his blue eyes twinkled with a brand of mischief Alaina associated only with Matt. Many of his clients often took one look at _him_ and forgot whoever they’d originally wanted him to be.

“So to what do I owe this pleasure, my lady?”

“Just wanted to check in, see how it’s going.”

Matt smirked softly. “You mean, how it’s going with the Alpha.”

Alaina kept her face neutral and waited. Matt had spirit and sass, more than anyone else usually dared use with or even around her. But even he could push it only so far. He wiped the smirk off his face, cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

“It’s going well. The Alpha has visited three times this month. Every Friday night actually. And I believe he’s scheduled to come again this week too. So I guess he must be a satisfied customer?”

The smirk returned, ever so slightly, but Alaina let this one pass. 

“I must say I was surprised to see him again. It’s been, what, six months since his first visit? And then he returns this month, out of the blue… did he, perchance, say anything?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

Matt shrugged. “Honestly he doesn’t talk much, and he doesn’t like me talking either. Just… gets straight down to business, you know?”

Alaina frowned. “And is it the same form every time, or…?”

“Yes, the same guy from six months ago. I suppose that’s why I have the Alpha’s repeat business, because nobody else _can_ , you know?”

Alaina pretended not to be overly interested in any of his answers, like she was only making small talk. “And how does he treat you… exactly? Is he… a gentleman?”

In response Matt grinned so widely, it almost alarmed the lady of the court.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Matt Cohen was seventeen years old when his mother died. DNA poisoning, the human doctor called it, caused by excessive sampling of one too many different DNAs in a short span of time. Barely ninety years old, which by shifter standards was far too young. Maybe she could have been saved, if only they had access to better medical services back in his faraway village up north…

Soon after she passed, his father brought him to Stormway, and left him here at the Chatoyant Court in the care of the lady. Alaina employed him as a janitor and got him enrolled at the local trade school to earn his certification. It was supposed to be just for one year, until he turned eighteen. After that, the plan was to get out of shifter hell and make his way into the heart of Manchester – where the human population was so dense he could easily blend right in. No one there would ever need to know of his true race.

And yet here he was, fifteen years later, still at the Court and more than happy that he decided to stay. Not as a janitor, but as one of the most popular courtesans in all of Stormway. For one, he didn’t have to hide his true self here. Instead he put it to good use, earning himself a life of pleasure and luxury that no illiterate, unskilled mutt like him could possibly find anywhere else.

Of course he still had his occasional doubts and moments of uncertainty about whether he’d made the right choices in life. But they’d all been put to rest for one extraordinary hour six months ago, when the Alpha first visited the Court and Alaina sent him to Matt.

The Alpha clearly belonged to an extremely prominent Loric clan; that much was clear from the way he carried himself and from the way Alaina and her assistants bowed before him. Yet he traveled without entourage, without security, without even a chauffeur to drive him around. What was more surprising was the way he was with Matt during their time together.

Alpha… or Jensen, as Matt liked to refer to him in the privacy of his thoughts… was a supremely gifted lover. He insisted on doing practically everything himself, taking care of Matt in ways that Matt didn’t even think were physically possible. So when Alaina asked him how the Alpha had been treating him, he couldn’t help but grin like a wholly fulfilled feline.

“Something the matter, Matt?”

“No, well,” Matt chuckled coyly. “I suppose in some respects yes, he’s a gentleman. He holds the door for me, waits for me to come first and so on. But in other ways he’s… quite controlling and… let’s just say I don’t really need to do much with him, you know what I mean?”

“…”

“Don’t get me wrong, my lady, I offer him everything I can, every skill I’ve learned over the years, I put at his disposal. But he doesn’t seem to want much of anything, really.”

“So he’s… clinical then, keeps you at arm’s length?”

Matt really thought about that. “I-I wouldn’t say that. This person, this… Jared that he makes me shift into, clearly meant a lot to the Alpha. But I think he’s sort of conflicted. He’s gentle one minute, and forceful and almost… furious the other. B-but never abusive, if that’s what you mean.”

Matt knew abuse. He’d had his share of clientele who had him take on the form of someone they deeply hated, or deeply loved, and vented their frustrations on him with no remorse. But not the Alpha, he kept his beast in check no matter what.

“Good. The Alpha’s business is important to us, Matt, but so are _you_. So let me know if there’s anything, all right?”

Matt nodded quietly, with no intention to jeopardize the sweetest arrangement he’d ever had.

“The new toys you requested are on their way, by the way. They should be delivered to your suite tomorrow.”

“Fabulous, thank you! I do need the upgrades, my lady. The Alpha is rather big, you see, and that aconite-infused lubricant we must use per our agreement with Lorics has some sort of tightening effect that –”

“Understood,” Alaina cut him off, not needed any more details. “You can go now.”

Matt stood up and subtly bowed before turning to leave. At the door he turned to glance at Alaina once more but found her engrossed in her papers. He quietly slipped out.

In all the years he’d been here, this was the longest conversation he’d had with his employer.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Once the door closed, Alaina pulled up the video footage from Matt’s suite and watched it again. She’d been doing a random security sweep yesterday of all suites when she came across this. She’d not been looking for anything but assurance that her employees were being treated fairly and in compliance with the rules of the Court. But this… this was an inconceivable coincidence, and she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen this any longer.

“Cancel my meetings for the morning, Liane,” she instructed her assistant as she flew out the door and up a private staircase that went up to the penthouse Alaina called home.

What Liane didn’t know was that the staircase also led to a skyway connecting the Chatoyant Court to the manor next door. Also a Huffman property, it was said to have been abandoned for many decades now. After Alaina’s parents died, there was no one left to live in that place. She couldn’t live alone in that home she spent a hundred of her early years in, but she couldn’t bring herself to sell it either.

Making sure no one was around to witness or follow, Alaina unlocked the door with her thumbprint. Then carefully closed it behind her before striding across the skyway in six-inch stilettos. On the other side, she digitally unlocked another door and entered the abandoned structure. Three minutes later, she stood before a winding stairs leading up to the manor’s old attic.

The Huffmans were the richest shifter clan in all of Midworld, and by far the one that wielded the most clout. Not that shifters, or mutts as they were derogatorily called, had that much clout to begin with. But like her father before her, Alaina took her job as one of the leaders of the community very seriously. In that capacity, she spearheaded the most profitable industry that shifters had an unfortunate monopoly over – pleasure tourism. All completely legitimate under Mancunian law of course. And she did her best to keep Stormway off the radar of those fanatical humanists who wanted nothing more than to see shifters exterminated from this wretched planet.

Alaina had no family of her own, at least not anymore. But where she was headed now, the one she was going to see, came closest to that description. Not just because she was personally fond of him, but also because he was his mother’s son. Her best friend’s son.

She knocked at the sturdy oakwood door and waited. As expected she got no response.

“It’s me. I have something very important to tell you.”

“…”

“No I’m not making it up just to get you to open up. But open up, or I’ll just let myself in again.”

And once again she was ignored. So like all the times she’d visited before, Alaina sighed, placed her thumbprint on the doorknob scanner, and let herself in.

The place was dusty and unkempt as always. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone else to come in here and discover the identity of the presumed-dead fugitive who lived here. Once in a while Alaina would clean up herself, but her house guest was in no mindset to be grateful or even care.

“Jared…”

Some days they talked. Some days Jared would even be glad for her company. But evidently, today was not that day.

It was as if he hadn’t moved since the last time she saw him. He sat in his large-sized armchair by the fireplace. His hair was long and awry, his face haggard, and his beard longer, leaving his once youthful, angelic features barely recognizable. Empty bottles of Reykian rum littered the carpeted floor all around him.

Alaina sighed and looked around the apartment. The lamp at the study desk nearby was on. A plasma screen was activated right above it, tuned to a human news channel. So at least he’d gotten out of that damn armchair at some point, if only to torture himself some more.

She walked over to the kitchenette a few steps away. She opened the storage doors and found the food she’d been bringing over, largely untouched. If Jared were human, he wouldn’t have survived starving himself like this. But there was no point trying to tell him anything. She’d said pretty much everything she could think of by this point.

_“You cannot go on like this, dear boy.”_

_“You can still have a life! Holy continents, you can be whoever you like!”_

_“Is this what your mother would want for you?”_

_“It’s been months, Jared. How long will you mourn?”_

_“You might as well be dead.”_

 

Okay, so she wasn’t proud of that last one. But she couldn’t watch Samantha’s only son waste away like this. Honestly, she would have said or done anything, if it’d make Jared snap out of the depression he seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into every day.

She had a feeling something just might give today.

Alaina picked up Jared’s digipad and flipped it to full-screen mode. Then she brought up the security video from Matt’s suite. “I hope your time among the humans did not turn you into a prude, dear boy…”

Jared blinked, clearly not expecting the words that just came out of his guardian’s mouth. The sounds on the video drew his attention. A second later, his eyes went wide, and then he couldn’t look away.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Février, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Huffman Manor ruins,  
_ ** **_Stormway, Manchester_ **

 

Jared paced back and forth across the length of his untidy attic. This was more activity than he’d indulged in for a very long time, and already he was feeling a little out of breath.

  

 

> _Tensions continue to escalate here at Pier 14, also known as the Eritrean pier, where hundreds have gathered to protest the government’s decision to approve the controversial lustrum extraction project…_

 

The Manchester news droned on in the background that nobody paid attention to. Jared watched Alaina glide around his kitchen, trying to get a pot of rabbit stew going. He wondered why she insisted on trying to cook for him when she clearly couldn’t, not very well in any case. He was thankful, no doubt. But really, he’d rather starve.

“This has been going on for weeks and you’re telling me _now_?”

“I just found out myself,” Alaina drawled without looking up from her onions. “Came as soon as I could.”

Jared grimaced, not satisfied with the answer at all.

“Did you know he had a thing for you back when you met him?”

“I-I might have… had an inkling,” Jared felt a wheeze come on. “But I never thought he would come _here_ of all places… how did he even get my DNA?”

“Jacket, black, fancy,” Alaina squinted, speaking from memory.

Every sordid, terrifying, traumatizing detail of that night six months ago was fresh in his mind’s eye, everything except that damn jacket. When did he lose it again?

“I need to see him.”

“It _is_ him, I assure you.”

“No! I mean…” Jared wheezed harder. “I need to meet him! I need to talk to him.”

Alaina dropped her knife and came over to him. In her stilettos and big hairdo, she stood as tall as his six feet and four inches.

“Sweetheart, slow down, you can’t just…”

“Why not? He seems to… like me… maybe he will listen. Maybe he will help!”

“How do you know? What if he’s not as benevolent as you think?”

“Oh let’s see, only because he’s been fucking a guy that looks like me for the past six months?”

Alaina rolled her eyes but didn’t bother to correct him. Jared already knew it though. He knew it wasn’t exactly six months, more a one-time deal six months ago followed by this recent string of visits that seemed to have been triggered out of nowhere.

 

 

> _The standoff between protestors and law enforcement is fraught with complications related to Earth Tribunal laws that prohibit the Lorics from interfering in any human development projects…_

 

“What if you’re wrong about him? What if he puts his political interests ahead of you and turns you in?”

“H-he wouldn’t do that.”

“I can’t take the risk, Jared. Because this time if you do come back on Cathedral’s radar, you would be dragging the Court down with you. You know I can’t allow that.”

Jared looked at her with helplessness brimming in his eyes. He wore a dull green shirt and black sweatpants, both hanging off his skeletal frame shapelessly. His chest heaved and he gripped his thin waist as if trying to hold himself up.

“W-why did you even show me this, if you won’t allow me to do anything about it?”

Alaina sighed. “Of course I want you to be able to use this to your advantage, Jared. But we’ve got to be careful about how we do this.”

“What do you suggest?”

Alaina crossed her arms and just looked at him. Jared blinked, suddenly realizing what she intended him to do.

“B-But that would mean… what if – what if he expects me to… do things?”

“You were never squeamish about sex before, as I recall? And I can always coach you if needed.”

Jared winced, “No. I’m not having _that_ conversation with you _again_.”

Alaina smirked, thinking back to the first time she’d explained the ‘birds and the bees’ to eleven-year old Jared during one of his spring breaks.

“Fine, look it up online then. I can send you all of Matt’s videos for more practical training in the meantime…”

Jared started pacing again. “It’s not like I’m a virgin, Alaina. But… it just doesn’t feel right, betraying him like this again.”

Alaina sighed and shook her head. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Pretending to be _human_. Subscribing to human prejudices and applying human metrics of what’s right and wrong to who we are! Who _you_ are, who you’ve always been, Jared. You’re a _shifter_ , shift is what you do. Hell, it’s our only advantage, our only weapon against a deck of cards that’s always stacked against us! And in this case, it can literally save your life.”

Jared didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“I know what you want to say,” there was bitterness in Alaina’s voice. “Nothing good ever came from shifting, right? That’s exactly what your mother used to say. You inherited your self-hate from her.”

“…”

“Despite my best attempts to protect her, I could never get her to accept herself. Which by extension meant she never really accepted me either. What a fool I am to expect any different from you.”

Alaina gathered her jacket and clutch, and started to leave.

“Alaina, wait,” Jared called out just before she reached to yank the door open.

She paused but kept her back turned towards him. A moment later, she felt two arms come around her from behind, and a head full of greasy, overlong hair came to rest on her right shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jared whispered to her, truly meaning it. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t leave either, and that was enough for now.

“A shifter saved my life.”

Alaina turned around and frowned. Jared stepped back, and let the memories from six months ago roll up to the forefront of his mind.

“Ty Olsson – the other convict – he took one look at me and knew what I was.”

Alaina frowned. “Was he innocent too?”

Jared bit his lip. “I don’t know, but he… for some reason he wanted _me_ to live. He hatched the escape plan, and he convinced me that it would work. But the cops were on us sooner than we calculated. There was gunfire. Ty got shot, and he knew he wouldn’t make it. So he…he shifted into me just before his last breath. It was freezing that night and the senescence rate was slow enough to keep him shifted for another two hours at least. That gave me enough time to get away.”

Alaina thought back to the news on the airwaves from six months ago. The cops had spent all night looking for a Ty Olsson, not realizing he was the one lying dead on the gurney. Meanwhile Jared shift-hopped from one human to another until he got to the hometown he’d promised Samantha never to return to again.

“But his body must have decayed at some point, so why wouldn’t they… oh, I see,” Alaina squinted, answering her own question without needing to see Jared’s cynical expression. “To save face. Government didn’t want people to know that not only did they lose you, but they lost you thanks to a shifter.”

Jared nodded. “Tapping was up for re-election in three months. She couldn’t afford the embarrassment of having to issue a retraction to say – oh by the way, the guy we said was absconding is actually dead and the guy we thought was dead is actually… actually we don’t know where he is, or what he is!”

He lowered his eyes to his feet and softly added, “They may have figured me out at some point too.”

“And to have the first author of the new deal with Albion be exposed as a shifter would be simply too much for Tapping to overcome.”

Jared sighed and forced himself to focus on the present. For the first time in six long months, he was seeing a glimmer of a way out of the darkness. He couldn’t afford to lose it.  

“If I could just talk to Jensen, find out what he’s thinking…”

“You’ll get your chance, Jared, I promise.” Alaina reached for his nearest shoulder and he leaned in towards her. “But you must do it my way, just to keep you safe. And to keep everyone else safe too. Agreed?”

Jared sighed, not like he had a choice. “Agreed.”

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Février, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Alaina’s office, Chatoyant Court  
_ ** **_Stormway, Manchester_ **

 

This time Alaina _pretended_ to be engrossed in her reports when Matt knocked at her door.

“Matt, come in!”

Matt walked in, a little nervous. Getting called into the boss’ office two days in a row couldn’t possibly be good. “You wanted to see me, my lady?”

“Yes, Alpha Ackles just called and canceled. I’m sorry, I know you were looking forward to tonight.”

Matt looked quite disappointed as he sank into a chair. But Alaina had an inkling it wouldn’t last too long.

“So since your schedule just got cleared, would you be able to do me a favor and take on a weekend job, off-court?”

Matt’s eyes went wide. “The whole weekend outside the Court?”

“Mm-hmm, in the Southern countryside to be more specific.”

Matt leaned forward, and Alaina tried not to smirk. “Is this a new client, my lady?”

“Yes, he’s been trying to schedule for a couple weeks now but nobody he liked was ever available.”

Granted it was Alaina who’d done some aggressive selling of a certain Matt Cohen to the client…

“James Patrick Stuart. Apparently he’s a big-time television producer. Have you heard of him?”

“Who hasn’t?! I mean,” Matt sat up straighter, his eyes blown wide. “I’d be happy to do you this _favor_ , my lady.”

“Thank you, Matt,” she smiled at him and watched him melt under her attention. Ten minutes later, she’d handed him all the information he needed, and sent him on his way.

Just outside her door, Matt bumped into a tall man, hunched over, in a gray trench coat with collars pulled up high. He wore a black beret pulled over long tresses of auburn hair, with a thick beard and moustache hiding most of his face from view.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, old man!”

The man mumbled an apology but didn’t stop, instead he went up to Alaina’s office door and walked right in without knocking. Matt stomped off, pretty sure the rude stranger was about to get an earful from the boss herself.

“So?” Alaina rose from her chair, looking up at said stranger curiously. “Do you have it?”

Jared pulled off his beret, then tapped into the miniscule sample of skin cells and sweat he lifted from Matt’s exposed forearm. A second later, his height dropped by five inches, his body filled out in all the right places, his eyes changed color from hazel to crystal blue.

Alaina looked up at ‘Matt Cohen’ and nodded in satisfaction. “Very good. Now, I want you to put these on and keep them on all day.”

She pulled out a plastic bag stuffed with what looked like Matt’s robe – the one he’d wear while… on the job, so to speak.

“Uh, Alaina this… um…”

“You need to mask your scent with his, Jared.”

Jared frowned “I-I was planning to mimic his scent too, I haven’t forgotten you know.”

Alaina smiled. “Of course sweetheart, but what about the Alpha that’s been all over Matt for the past three weeks? He will expect to sense himself on you as well.”

Jared winced unhappily, holding the bag by its strings like it held toxic waste.

“Now that you’ve got your fake cover, why don’t we focus on your real cover?”

“Ugh, what now?” Jared asked, quickly shifting back to his natural form.

“First things first, all that foliage on your face has _got_ to go.”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

That evening, Jensen walked into Matt’s suite without fanfare. So quietly that even Matt didn’t notice him come in. Maybe because he was too enthralled by the ancient script-book Jensen had left behind, the last time he was here.

Matt sat on the edge of his king-sized bed, his brows furrowed, head bowed into the book, clutching it with both hands delicately, like he was afraid to damage it. This was the last thing Jensen had expected to see, based on everything he thought he knew about the courtesan. He may have been wrong.

This book was very important to Jensen. It was a gift from Misha for his seventy-sixth birthday. It had been published before the nuclear ice age, and had been remarkably well-preserved in the bunkers. Hardback, no illustrations on the cover, just a stem engraved in gold with the words ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’

“I see you found my book.”

The courtesan nearly jumped, startled by Jensen’s voice. “Je- uh… I mean… A-Alpha! Sorry I didn’t… w-when did you come in?”

Jensen still stood by the door a good distance away. He held his spine straight and hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed in all black – dress shoes, trousers, a snug silk shirt, and a long A-line coat the ends of which sashayed by the back of his knees. Matt took him in from head to toe, like he was seeing Jensen for the first time in years.

“Apologies if I startled you,” Jensen said, a soft smile lurking around the corner of his lips.

“Uh, not at all. This is yours? I mean, yes of course it is. I just…”

“I didn’t know literature interested you. I’m afraid this one is special to me. But I could bring you your own copy, and a few others too if you like…”

“T-that would be great, thank you, Alpha.”

Jensen tilted his head to the side and watched him carefully. “You look different.”

Matt blinked, almost in fear. Jensen raised an eyebrow gesturing at the silk pajama-style slacks under the robe that Matt usually wore with, well, nothing. The robe that was spun from sheer gold, so sheer in fact that it was nearly translucent and left nothing to the imagination.

“Oh,” Matt chuckled and actually blushed, “I was just, caught unawares, Alpha. I didn’t expect you so soon.”

He pulled the ends of his robe together around his slender torso uselessly. Left to their own devices, the ends kept falling to his sides, beautifully exposing his genitalia adorned in strings of gold silk. Except tonight the slacks were in the way.

The Alpha found himself smiling softly as he shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. There was something about this bashful Matt that appealed to Jensen more than he had ever before. But as gorgeous as Matt was himself, there was only one reason for Jensen to visit the Chatoyant Court. The reason he couldn’t wait to come here.

“Shift.”

It was just one word muttered softly, simply. But there was no mistaking the steel behind the order.

Matt stood up, looking more hesitant than he usually did at this point. A second later, he transformed into the human Jensen had fallen in love with six months ago. The sight of Jared was conflicting as always – it brought a certain measure of gladness, but also made the blood in his veins boil, and squeezed his heart painfully in ways that couldn’t be described with words of any language.

“Jared.” The word came out half-growled, half-whispered, like it burned him to even say it out loud. But he couldn’t _not_ say it either.

The courtesan closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked into Jensen’s eyes with more boldness than he ever had before. As if he were rising up to a challenge, and daring Jensen to do so as well.

The Alpha closed the distance in three short strides. For a second Jared’s eyes went wide with anticipation, as if he expected the Alpha to kiss him. Jensen felt no regret for disappointing him once again. He had no interest in knowing what this… this impostor tasted like.

Instead, Jensen peeled the courtesan’s robe away, grasped him by the crook of his elbow, and briskly (but gently) led him back to the armchair. This was the Alpha’s favorite spot in this suite. Here, he could bend Jared over the back of the plush chair of perfect height and breadth, and fuck the boy to his heart’s content, while gazing at the vast ocean through the full-length windows.

The slacks slid off easily, revealing smooth, alabaster skin underneath. No foreplay, no tenderness, those things had no place in this suite. This was a transaction, plain and simple, and Jensen intended to get his currency’s worth. But he never forgot to dip into the jar of lubricant perfectly placed on a table nearby to prepare the courtesan’s orifice.

“You’re tight today,” he murmured as he reached into the jar for the third time. Transaction or not, he didn’t want Jared (or Matt) bleeding to death around him.

“I-it’s the aconite, Alpha…”

“Yes, yes, I know…” Jensen muttered impatiently, but massaging the channel patiently.

Jared trembled beneath him and undulated unnecessarily around his fingers, but kept his mouth clamped shut. Maybe he was sulking. Maybe Jensen’s continued refusal to kiss him or offer any affection whatsoever was starting to get to him.

Jensen sighed and gentled his fingers, caressing other parts of the courtesan’s body that he knew to be sensitive to his touch. He waited until he was sure the boy wouldn’t resist him, before unzipping and sheathing himself inside the stretched opening. Jared moaned, somewhat differently tonight. He knocked his head into the cushions beneath and his chest heaved with the effort of trying to hold his sounds back in.

Jensen chuckled. “This is the first honest reaction you’ve ever given me.”

Jared stilled at that.

“Relax, it’s a good thing.”

Then Jensen started to move, while stroking the courtesan’s erection in tandem. Jared found release rather quickly, almost against his will if his whimpers were anything to go by. Maybe he wished for the night to last. Maybe he had an inkling Jensen did not intend to stay much longer tonight.

Another few minutes went by before Jensen let himself go with a quiet growl. Maybe a part of him didn’t wish to leave either. But he had work to do. As the lust-filled haze lifted and the Alpha regained control of all his sensory faculties, he pulled out carefully and patted the upturned bottom twice to signal the end of their session. He turned away to redress himself, expecting Jared to raise himself up and do the same. But when he turned around, Jared was still where he’d left him, looking listless and disoriented.

Jensen chuckled. “Come on then, little lynx.”

He pulled Jared upright, turned him around and lifted him up into his arms. Jared gasped in surprise but brought his arms around Jensen’s neck and held on for dear life. At this proximity, Jensen couldn’t help but look into Jared’s clean-shaven face more keenly than he had all month.

The face was a little leaner than he remembered it. The eyes were darker than he expected, lashes longer and thicker than he’d ever dreamed them to be. Beads of sweat dotted along the sides of his temple, and his lips were open around an endless litany of pants. The hair was soft and lustrous, curling up at the base of his neck just like it did back in the capital.

Jensen sighed, cursing himself. Now why did he have to go reminding himself of that damn city at this pleasurable moment?

“I-I can walk, Alpha.”

“It’s all right. You seem tired today. Let me carry you to your bed and you can rest.”

Jared bit his lip. “You’re not staying?”

Jensen didn’t bother to respond. Once back in the bedroom, he gently placed Jared on the bed. The action once again brought his lips closer to the courtesan’s mouth than they’d ever been before and the temptation tonight was stronger than ever. But the Alpha reined his wolf back in and stepped away.

“I’m needed back in Cathedral tonight. But I will see you next week. As promised.”

With that Jensen turned around and grabbed his coat. He looked out the windows and wondered not for the first time why it always seemed to be raining in Manchester.

“Alpha, before you go, may I ask you a question?”

Jensen halted and smirked at the shifter. “Didn’t we agree to keep the talking to a minimum when you’re shifted?”

Every time the boy opened his mouth he broke the illusion. Except tonight. Tonight, he was doing a pretty good job of channeling other traits from Jared’s personality as well. Something shifters were often able to do as they got more familiar with a subject’s DNA.

Jared pulled the bed covers up to his waist, then pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I can shift back if you like.”

Jensen thought about it. “It’s all right. Ask away.”

“This… this man, this Jared…”

It was an odd thing, watching Jared refer to himself in the third person.

“I-I can’t tell if you… if you like him or… if you despise him?”

Jensen stared at him for a few seconds. The shifter had never dared ask him anything before. Never said anything beyond his Court-approved script, really. Jensen looked at his watch, mainly as a pretense to look away from Jared’s hazel eyes fixed on him ever so keenly. Too much like the human he once knew.

“You play a very crucial role in my life, _Jared_. You’re here to remind me of all the reasons why I should never, ever, let myself trust a human again.”

No response followed, and Jensen didn’t wait for one either. He walked out without another word.

Soon as he stepped out of Matt’s suite, Jensen realized he missed him already.

 

 

** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- **

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is extremely sexually explicit and has the BDSM elements I warned you about. So you've been warned, again!

#### Février, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Huffman Manor ruins  
_ ** **_Stormway, Manchester_ **

 

Alaina stepped through the attic door carrying two bags of groceries and a new bottle of Reykian rum. Instead of the drawn shades and dark interiors she’d gotten used to, she found the curtains cordoned away to let the sunlight in, and the floor clear of litter and empty rum bottles.

“Oh my, I’d forgotten what color the floor was…” she murmured, looking around with a soft smile.

Jared was sitting behind his desk when she walked in. He had four different digipads pulled up and scrolling through documents and news articles from multiple sources. The plasma was on and tuned to a human news channel again.

But the biggest change was Jared himself. He was still clean-shaven, and he looked like he’d actually showered this morning. He’d pulled his long hair back with a little clip to keep it from falling into his eyes while he did… whatever it was he was doing.

“What is all this?”

“Research!” Jared looked up and exclaimed, and it seemed like he was almost happy to see her. Alaina tried not to let show how happy that made _her_.

“I think I know why I was framed.”

Alaina frowned and kept herself busy putting the groceries away while Jared explained his theory.

“Have you been following this protest that’s been on the news lately?”

“Not really.”

“Last month, Tapping approved a tender from Armstrong Industries for a lustrum extraction project, guess where… in the Bay of Eritrea! Three hundred kilometers from the shoals of the Mer people!”

“And that’s important how?”

“This shouldn’t be happening, don’t you see?” Jared’s eyes glinted manically with both knowledge and the pain that often came with it. “According to the agreement that _I_ drew up to transfer the Bay of Eritrea from Albion to Manchester, no industry or development project could be actioned within _six_ hundred kilometers of the shoals. Those were the terms Jensen asked for. But someone went in and revised all our carefully worded clauses after getting me out of the way.”

“But why? What would they have to gain from it?”

Jared grabbed Alaina by her shoulders. “Lustrum, Alaina. It’s the most expensive natural resource on the planet. One gram is worth trillions! Haven’t you wondered why the Mers of Eritrea seem to glitter in the sun? It’s because of all the lustrum in the waters they live in. They’re _literally_ swimming in it!”

“So that means, someone at your firm was in bed with someone at Armstrong Industries?”

“That’s the only explanation,” Jared stepped away and looked at the news playing on the plasma. There was an image of a handsome being with golden brown skin that, as Jared just noted, gleamed in the sunlight.

“That’s Tahmoh, leader of the Mers. He just got arrested at the pier where he and his supporters were staging a protest. He’d warned Jensen not to trust the humans. And he was right and now he probably blames Jensen and in turn Jensen blames me for all of it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Jared scoffed. “The timing says it all, doesn’t it? Four weeks ago, the project is approved. News spreads of it, Jensen finds out or maybe Tahmoh tells him. And what does Jensen do? He comes all the way to Stormway to find the shifter that can morph into me, just so he can take out all his frustrations on _me_!”

“Jared…”

“Meanwhile Tahmoh challenges the project in the Earth Tribunal. But the case gets thrown out, guess why – because there is nothing in the agreement that Alan Ackles signed to protect the Mers from this exact situation! The extraction project will proceed and it will cause irrevocable havoc to the ecosystem, possibly making it uninhabitable for the Mers in the years to come. It’s what humans have always done. How could we possibly expect anything less from those fucking planet killers?”

Alaina bit her lip, worried because Jared was clearly working himself up into a state. “Matt never complained about Jensen mistreating him in any way.”

Jared scoffed again. “No, he wouldn’t, because he’s _Jensen_. He just keeps you at arm’s length, handles you like a business transaction. A perfect gentleman to the end.”

Alaina sighed. Sex was not a big deal around here at the Court, for obvious reasons. And based on everything she’d heard so far about Jared’s encounter with Jensen, she honestly didn’t see what the problem was. Unless there was a very specific kind of emotion involved. One that made Jared expect (want) something more than just a business transaction…

“I guess now’s not a good time to tell you this…”

“Tell me what?”

“Jensen is back. He’s requested your company on his private yacht.”

“What? But it’s only Wednesday. He can’t be back, he should be in Cathedral trying to get Tahmoh out of jail…”

Alaina shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He called half an hour ago.”

Jared’s eyes were wide as saucers. “So… what, a-are you sending Matt?”

“It’s an overnight session, sweetheart.”

“…”

“And he’s requested that Matt bring his toy box.”

Jared gulped, hard. Alaina watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously in the middle of his throat.

“Look, I know you didn’t get to talk to Jensen the last time. But let Matt take this one tonight. I’m sure there’ll be other…”

“No! I-I will go.”

“Are you sure? Like, really, really sure?”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared couldn’t meet Alaina’s penetrating gaze, so he turned away quickly and went to sit down at his large mahogany desk.

He could feel the hot blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks. Alaina was his mother’s best friend, and in many respects like a real aunt to Jared. Heck, she was the closest thing to any kind of family Jared had anymore. No way could he confess the big, convoluted mess of emotions that seemed to overwhelm him every time he so much as thought of Jensen.

How could he confess to her the restless days and sleepless nights he’d had since Friday, thinking about Jensen, dreaming of Jensen, waking up in the morning with sticky bedsheets still longing for Jensen? How could he describe the strangely titillating humiliation he felt every time he remembered being bent over face down, his clothes peeled away without a second’s thought for Jared’s modesty?

And yet, how could he possibly explain the intense wave of envy that surged through his body at the thought of Jensen touching Matt (or anyone else) ever again?

“I… I need to talk to him. This time I really must. Now that I have an idea of what happened, I should warn him. A-as soon as possible.”

“And is that the only reason you want to go?”

“Of course!” Damn Alaina for her ability to see through people like they were fucking panes of clear glass.

Alaina smirked and quickly shrugged. “All right then. Your transport will arrive at six. That gives you a few hours to get ready.”

“What about Matt?”

“He doesn’t know that Jensen called. I’ll send him off on another visit. That producer, Stuart, seems to be quite taken with Matt.”

“Good, that’s… good.”

“Jared? In preparation for this session, I think we need to have another talk. Actually, this one has to be more like a crash course, really.”

Jared groaned and dropped his head to the desk.  

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

 

#### Février, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_The Nyctimus, off the coast of Stormway  
_ ** **_Alaskan Ocean_ **

 

The Chatoyant had its own chauffeur service for special occasions when clients needed to be picked up and dropped off, or when courtesans were invited to a client’s residence.

Jared was dropped off at the pier. There an auto-boat waited to carry him to the Ackles yacht anchored fifty kilometers from the shoreline. It was a nice private spot surrounded by glittering green waters as far as the eye could see.

When he first set foot on the Nyctimus, he was Matt Cohen. Dressed in a fitted white shirt and tight blue jeans three inches too long, along with a pair of brown suede loafers – he could have passed for any regular human being. But then he came face to face with the Alpha, and the look in those stormy green eyes instantly slammed him back into his place. The bottom of the post-glacial food chain so to speak.

“Shift.”

Jared un-shifted to return to his default form instantly, unable to resist the Alpha’s command. The jeans now fit him perfectly, the shirt didn’t. Jensen’s eyes narrowed for a second, then without a word he abruptly turned and headed downstairs below deck.

Jared blinked, assuming he was expected to follow, so he did.

For a luxury yacht this size, Jared would have expected at least a crew of four. But it looked like there was no one else on board. A fact that should be unnerving but it was sort of a relief – at least he wouldn’t have a witness to… whatever it was Jensen planned to do with him tonight.

Speaking of, there was something different about the Alpha. Something… off. A being of his stature was always dignified, and his supernatural genetics gave him stealth and agility that other races could barely imagine. But tonight, Jensen seemed to be breathing a little more noisily, his strides seemed heavier, and he clearly didn’t look too happy to see Jared even though the Alpha asked for him.

For the first time, Jared wished he’d listened to Alaina and skipped this visit after all.

“Alpha?” He dared to call out once he descended a short set of steps to reach the lavish and spacious area below deck. It was minimally but tastefully furnished with sleek white furniture and clear glass surfaces. 

He found the Alpha at the bar, pouring himself a drink. He was dressed casually too, as casual as Jared had ever seen him so far: perfectly fitted black trousers and a black turtleneck sweater, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His skin looked flushed, reminding Jared of his observations from above deck.

Are you all right, he wanted to ask. Instead the words that came out of his mouth were: “I wasn’t expecting to see you before Friday.”

Jensen didn’t respond. Instead he downed his drink in one swig, put the glass back on the counter, and then turned towards Jared.

“Strip.”

Again, there was no point in resisting. Jared closed his eyes for a moment to scrunch up every speck of courage in his body, then peeled his clothes off.  When he was naked, he looked up and found Jensen seated with his legs crossed, on an armless chair by the full-length wall of glass offering a glorious and uninterrupted view of the ocean.

“Come here.”

Jared obeyed and walked until he reached Jensen’s side. Without warning, the Alpha pulled Jared close, then pushed him forward until his long body was draped across his lap. Jared felt his head swim with slight vertigo as he was lifted off his feet and manhandled like he weighed no more than a feather. When his vision cleared he was face down with his ass upturned over the Alpha’s lap, within perfect access of a large, muscular hand.

“You asked me if I hated this man I ask you to be,” Jensen rumbled low in his throat.

Jared felt himself start to hyperventilate.

“Let’s just say, some days are harder than others,” Jensen continued. “This is well within your contract. But stop me if you need to.”

Jared closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. Then the first smack landed and he forgot to breathe altogether.

It carried on for a long while. Jared suspected the Alpha was holding back. The Lycan could basically kill him with a single blow, but it’d been several blows so far and he was fortunately (or unfortunately,) still alive to feel every single one. Jared bit his lip and tried to stay as stoic as he could. But he could only hold out so long, and once the first sound of discomfort escaped his mouth, there was no stopping the rest of them.

He could ask Jensen to stop at any time, he knew he could. And yet something in his unresolved psyche felt he deserved every bit of this pain and degradation at the hands of this Lycan who’d trusted him completely, only to be betrayed repeatedly.

“Just say the word,” the Alpha offered him an out again, but Jared still didn’t take it.

He grunted, whimpered, kicked his legs and gripped the Alpha’s ankles like his life depended on it. At some point he forgot where he was, forgot the role he was supposed to play, and let himself drown in the memories of all the times he’d met Jensen back in the capital. He suddenly realized he had never been honest with Jensen – not once in all the time he’d known him.

The thought grew and morphed into a pain that completely overshadowed the physical ache cumulating in his backside, until it broke out of his throat as a hoarse little sob. It made Jensen halt.

“Stubborn little lynx,” the Alpha grumbled, but there was no anger in that voice, not anymore.

Jared closed his eyes and his chest heaved, pulling in gigantic mouthfuls of air to try and mask the rest of the sobs adamant on making themselves heard. Next thing he knew, he was being turned around and manhandled again, up into a pair of strong Lycan arms, and heaved higher into the air. Jared buried his face into Jensen’s chest and acutely felt the abject surrender of his limbs, his will, his entire being.

It was a while before Jared managed to open his eyes and return to the present. When he did, he found himself lying prone on a soft queen-sized bed, covered to his shoulder bones with a plush white blanket that felt like it was made from real wolf fur, except one would never find an item like that in a Lycan abode. Obviously.

“Welcome back,” Jensen whispered, drawing Jared's attention up to himself. The Alpha sat on the bed beside Jared with his back against the headboard. He had his legs crossed at the ankles, and in his right hand he held the ancient book about that man who was falsely accused and sentenced to life in prison.

The Alpha didn’t look at Jared, but his left hand stayed planted steadily in the middle of Jared's back.

“May I ask you a question, Alpha? A-Another one?”

Jensen sighed in obvious reluctance. “What?”

Do you forgive me now, Jared wanted to ask. Instead the words that came out of his mouth were: “How does it end – your book? Does Dantès get his life back?”

If the Alpha was surprised, which he clearly was, he didn’t vocalize it. “He gets his revenge.”

Jared bit his lip. “And is that good enough? For Dantès?”  

The Alpha looked down at him in silence for a long while. “I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

Jensen went back to his reading then, ignoring Jared for the time being. But one hand continued to rub Jared’s back with all the gentleness in the world.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Time stood still, at least that’s how it felt to Jared. But he was perfectly content to lie there, unmoving, all night, despite the ache in his rear. He felt lighter somehow, unfurled, though he couldn’t explain why or how.

Someone knocked at the door, startling Jared out of his reverie. The Alpha looked up and slowly pulled his hand away.

“May I come in?” Asked a soft, feminine voice that Jared hadn’t heard before.

He turned his neck to find a young, blonde woman waiting outside with a metallic tray in her hands. From his vantage point lying on the bed he couldn’t see what she was carrying on said tray.

“Of course,” Jensen answered, his voice softer than usual too.

Human manners dictated Jared try to stand up to greet the lady. He valiantly tried as well, except Jensen’s hand landed back on his spine, holding him in place. The attempt did rouse the sore nerve endings in his bottom, and he couldn’t help but gasp in renewed pain.

“Yep, thought you could use this,” the female drawled.

As she got near, Jared started to notice the similarities. The same sea-green eyes, the same proud, square jawline… if he had to make a wild guess…

“This is Kathryn, my sister,” Jensen supplied.

Kathryn smiled down at him. “Hello – Matt, isn’t it?”

Jared’s first instinct was to correct her, before he remembered where he was and what he was doing here. So he smiled sheepishly and forced himself to nod instead.

From her outward appearance, no one could ever guess that Kathryn was Lycan royalty – her blue denim jeans were tattered at the knees and ended three inches above her ankles. Her white sleeveless t-shirt had the words ‘The Beyhive’ emblazoned in the front. Jared had no idea what that was, wondered if it was a spelling error perhaps.

She walked over and sat down at the foot of the bed, placing the tray beside Jared. He noticed a plate of small chocolate squares, the dark kind, along with a jar of what looked like a healing salve.

“Here,” she said, picking up a square and offering it to Jared. “Eat, it will help.”

He accepted the snack gratefully but nearly choked on it when he felt Jensen pull the blanket away from his lower torso, exposing his reddened backside.

“Goodness, by the looks of that, I was expecting a lot more noise…”

Jensen dipped his fingers into the salve jar, picking up a huge dollop then applying it to Jared’s sore ass. Jared closed his eyes and sighed, partly in relief for the coolness calming his scorched skin, and partly in embarrassment for being naked before not one but two Lycans, one of whom he was meeting for the first time. He reminded himself he was a courtesan, or at least pretending to be one, something he chose to do himself. He was supposed to have checked his modesty at the door.

“Feel better?”

Kathryn asked after a while, but it wasn’t directed at Jared. Instead he heard Jensen exhale deeply in response.

“Not really.”

“Told you so,” his sister replied, three words that were an essential part of the universal language of siblings everywhere. Or so Jared was told.

Kathryn left the chocolates on the bedside table for Jared, picked up the now empty tray and started to walk out.

“Come on out if you want to try it my way.”

Minutes later, Jensen patted Jared’s ass that was almost entirely numb thanks to the rapid healing effects of the salve, and covered him up with the blanket once again.

“Rest, Matt. Take as long as you need.”

Jared cringed at the wrong name again, and ruefully watched the Alpha walk out, leaving him by himself.

Once he was alone, Jared shifted into Matt Cohen for a few minutes, then back into himself again. The shifting allowed him to heal the rest of the way, restoring his skin to its baby-smooth and unblemished state. It was probably why Jensen left him alone – so he could recuperate and prepare for whatever else the Alpha had planned for him.

He got out of bed and put his clothes back on. He ate more of the chocolate, helped himself to a drink of water from the bar, and walked around the suite contemplatively. He wondered why he didn’t resist the spanking more than he did, in fact he hadn’t resisted at all. For all intents and purposes, he’d behaved almost exactly like how Matt would have, had he really been here. Was he actually taking on some of Matt’s core personality traits after just two turnings? Or could it be that a part of him actually needed that pain… needed the catharsis that came with the tears that followed?

At one point he sank to the sleek hardwood floor, pulled his knees up to his chest, and just sat there, thinking. It wasn’t hard to guess what had brought this on – Tahmoh had been arrested protesting the Armstrong project. Tahmoh was Jensen’s childhood friend, they went back over eighty years. Jensen needed to vent on the one person he held responsible for Tahmoh’s arrest, for all of it really.

Jared shifted to Matt again, almost as if trying to hide himself. But also because he needed to talk to Jensen and something told him the Alpha would be more willing to do so with ‘Matt’. But first he needed to make sure that ‘Jared’ _could_ trust Jensen, and then find a way to somehow convince the Alpha that he – that Jared Padalecki – was innocent of all the crimes he’d been accused of. Jensen probably even believed that Jared killed Adrianne.

 _Adrianne!_ The thought of his murdered fiancée prompted him to stand up and head out. He felt restless and unsettled, heck he couldn’t allow himself to relax. Not when he’d been given this chance to find justice for Adie, and for Tahmoh and the Mer people as well.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

It was a nice, sunny day off the coast of Stormway, for a change.

Jared reached the upper deck and found nothing and no one there. He walked over to the wheelhouse which was empty too – the yacht was on autopilot. The crew quarters, staterooms, both the front and back decks were deserted. He walked across the gigantic yacht from stern to bow and back again, but couldn’t find anyone else aboard. He’d started to panic when he heard splashing and what could only be described as… howling, coming from the swimming deck below.

Jared headed down there expecting to find two humanoid forms, but instead he saw two gigantic wolves – one jet black and the other a gorgeous gold – frolicking in the waters just behind the boat. They were clearly having a whale of a time and Jared just stood there watching, and trying not to intrude.

Not many people got to see Lorics in their pure forms. The Lycans of Albion especially were known to be extremely private and reclusive beings who didn’t let strangers get this close to them, in human form or otherwise.

It didn’t take long for the wolves to notice his presence though. Jared felt guilty for interrupting their fun but it was too late to take it back now. The wolves swam back to the yacht and as they climbed up on the deck, shifted effortlessly back into their humanoid forms. Jared’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of Jensen, and despite his best attempts he couldn’t look away. It was the first time he’d seen the Alpha naked, completely so.

Words couldn’t do justice to the vision Jared’s eyes beheld. All he knew was that Jensen was… absolutely magnificent. Tall, broad shoulders, smooth golden skin, a strong, chiseled torso that would put the ancient gods of Greece to shame… simply put, the Lycan was… _beautiful_.

It didn’t occur to him until much later that he’d barely skimmed over Kathryn’s naked form. For someone who’d been inarguably ‘straight’ for most of his life, this was quite a revelation into himself.

“Next time you can fish for your own dinner!” Kathryn teased her brother as she pulled her clothes back on, not caring that she was dripping water everywhere.

“Oh please, I had it. You started giggling and alerted it to my presence on purpose!”

Jensen donned his own clothes while continuing the friendly banter. He must have noticed Jared’s eyes hungrily drinking in his naked form, how could he not? But he was probably used to being admired and it could’ve hardly bothered him.

“Ready for supper?” He threw at Jared casually as he walked up to him.

Jared blinked, forced his jaw to close up and nodded despite not being all that hungry. Jensen’s right hand, still damp from his swim, landed once again in the small of Jared’s back as he gently turned the shifter around and led him back to the upper deck.

“Kat’s a great griller of seafood! Aren’t you, little sister?”

“You’re a spoiled, lazy brat, big brother, that’s what _you_ are.”

Jensen laughed, and the trio headed up to a cozy spot in the sun with white deck furniture set under a little yellow canopy, alongside what looked like a barbecue grill.

“Let me know if it’s under-done for you, Matt. I can’t always tell how non-Lorics like their meat,” Kathryn commented, as she fired up the grill and started to flavor a couple of oversized Pomfrets. The aromatic spices tingled in Jared’s nostrils, reminding him of happier days back in Oxbridge.

“Those are Silankan curry spices, right?”

“Good nose!” Kathryn exclaimed. “Wait, where do you get Silankan food in Stormway?”

“Uh,” Jared stuttered realizing his little slip-up. “You don’t. But a-a client once took me to Cathedral. So, um, there.”

“That’s nice. Jensen was under the impression you hadn’t gotten around so much.”

Jared sighed. Given the size of Matt’s toy box that he’d had to lug up to the yacht today, he was pretty sure that wasn’t true.

Jensen hadn’t been participating in the conversation so far. He was absorbed in his digipad, frowning as he read something that seemed to be agitating him. Eventually he huffed.

“I must talk to Misha,” he looked up at Jared. “Best if you stay un-shifted while we're on this call, Matt.”

Jared mutely nodded. He remembered meeting the rather irreverent lawyer briefly, and could guess why the Alpha wouldn’t want Misha to know about him. The phone rang twice before Misha’s face appeared hovering three feet in the air.

“Hello! Oh… hi there – you must be the mutt from Chatoyant,” Misha greeted Matt in his own flippant way. Jared chose not to respond to the slur thrown his way thoughtlessly.

“What’s going on? What’s the hold up?” Jensen demanded.

Misha sighed and put a hand up as if in placation. “Just paperwork. Red tape stuff. But the bail is signed and delivered, I assure you. Tahmoh should be walking out of this building any minute now.”

Jared glanced at Cathedral’s downtown detention center in the background. It was a location he was deeply familiar with – he’d rescued many clients of his own from there as a lawyer in a past life. Which, strange as it seemed now, wasn’t so long ago after all.

“You said that two hours ago, Misha.”

“I know. I know. That’s just how things are done here.”

“He’s a Loric! How can they be treating him like some common human criminal?”

“It’s a political face-saving thing. The government doesn’t want to be seen as if they’re making exceptions or giving him special treatment. Besides they think they can get away with it because it’s _just a Mer_.”

The emphasis on the last part was sarcastic and not lost on anyone in his audience. Jared knew he was right, based on his past experience. The net worth of the ascetical Mers in human eyes didn’t quite compare when stacked up against the land- and sea-owning Lorics.

Jensen huffed in frustration. His expression clearly revealed to Jared what the Lycan believed – that Lorics _ought_ to be getting special treatment.

“Trust me, Jensen. This one’s in the resolved box for now. It’s what happens once we get Tahmoh out that I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

Misha threw both hands up in the air this time. “I mean your friend is just going to go back to protesting and will land himself back in jail! Someone needs to get him to back off.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that? Hell, I’m in half a mind to come down there and join him myself.”

“You can’t do that, brother,” Kathryn chided him from this end. “Tribunal law clearly states that no Loric can interfere in human affairs in human territory. You forfeited your right to interfere when you signed over the Bay to Tapping.”

Jensen clenched his jaw shut.

“Kat is right,” Misha chimed in. “If the Mers didn’t still live in the Bay they wouldn’t have the right to protest either. And Tahmoh would still be rotting in jail instead of getting out on bail right now.”

Jared, in Matt’s form, drank his water and listened to the exchange quietly. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. None of this would be happening if he’d just been smart enough, fast enough, and brave enough to share his suspicions with Jensen when he first had them.                                               

After Misha disconnected, the siblings continued to argue about the correct course of action.

“Fucking humans,” Jensen ground out as he stood up to help Kathryn at the grill. “Tahmoh was right, I never should’ve trusted those lawyers…”

He stopped, glancing over at Matt once, and didn’t finish the sentence. Jared knew exactly what Jensen was going to say, and wondered why he censured himself. The shifter looked down at himself to make sure he was still in Matt’s form, and not his own.

“I swear if they hurt or mistreated Tahmoh in any way…”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Kathryn countered casually. “Humans may be motivated by greed and don’t care what or who gets hurt along the way. But even they won’t dare cross the Tribunal and risk another hostile situation with the Lorics.”

Jared nodded subtly, that much he agreed with.

Jensen continued to rant though. “I just worry because prejudices run really deep in human blood. They claim that it’s us Lorics that have a superiority complex. But fact is, they are the ones who think themselves above us, and see _us_ as something abnormal and unnatural, sub-human! I’ve seen it in their eyes. I know you’ve seen it too.”

Kathryn didn’t respond, just concentrated on flipping the fishes while Jensen fixed plates for the three of them.

At this point, Jared was keenly aware that he was nothing more than adornment, an object brought in for entertainment and nothing else. But the person he once used to be couldn’t help but speak up.

“I don’t know if prejudice is purely a human trait,” he started, a little softly. But Loric hearing was sharp enough to pick it up. Both Jensen and Kathryn looked up at him in obvious surprise.

Jared shrugged and carried on because, why stop now?

“Lorics hate shifters and treat them like something less than themselves too. I mean, you call us mutts without even realizing how offensive it is. Isn’t that a little, I don’t know, hypocritical maybe?”

Jared knew he’d gone too far when several moments passed and both Jensen and Kathryn just kept looking at him, like he’d suddenly grown three heads. Nervously he cleared his throat.

“I-I am sorry, I didn’t mean to speak out of line…”

“No, it’s fine,” Kathryn assured him quickly. “In my brother’s defense, I’ve personally never heard him use that word… just saying…”

“Yes,” Jensen cleared his throat. “And I can vouch for Kat too. She’s never…”

“Not in twenty years at least…”

“Yes, absolutely…”

Jared, as Matt, watched the two Lycans trip over each other trying to appease the lowly shifter among them in awe. He looked away abruptly, trying not to show how deeply touched he was.

Later after they’d eaten, and Kathryn got up to grab more drinks from the bar downstairs, Jensen leaned back in his chair and looked at Matt. He stared for so long and so hard that it made the hair on the back of Jared’s neck stand to attention.

“What?” He chuckled at last, mainly to relieve the tension.

Jensen squinted at him. “Nothing, just… it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time today.”

“…”

“So when you shift into someone else, how much of the other personality do you take on?”

Jared swallowed and licked his lips. “Some genetic traits can be passed on, but not all. Allergies, short temper, certain chronic phobias, stammer even. The more you shift into the same person, the more prominent the traits get.”

“Hmm, that must be it…”

Jared smiled tightly and looked away, not willing to indulge the conversation any further in case Jensen figured it out.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

After a couple of drinks, Kathryn stood up and announced it was time for her to leave.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Jensen genuinely meant that, even as he put an arm around her shoulders and led her down to the swim deck. Matt stayed behind, giving the siblings a moment.

“Well, I’ve never explored Stormway before,” Kat replied. “Or any shifter towns for that matter. These people have been forgotten _literally_ , Jensen. Think it’s time I expanded my world-view a bit.”

“Right. Just be careful, as always.”

“As always,” Kathryn looked up into her brother’s face and changed the subject.

“He’s really adorable, you know.”

“Which one? Jared or Matt?”

Kathryn squinted in thought. “Both? I really couldn’t tell the difference.”

“Trust me, there was a big, big difference in the beginning. But now… it’s a shifter thing apparently.”

She nodded. “It’s very important for you to know the difference, Jensen. Know it, remember it. Because that guy up there? He is not the man you fell in love with. He just happens to be able to look like him.”

Jensen winced. “I know that.”

Once they reached the swim deck and the auto-boat parked beside it (the one that’d brought the courtesan up from the shore), Kathryn turned towards Jensen and held his gaze deliberately.

“Are you sure you can do this?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’m still twelve years older you know. And I really don’t want to discuss my sex life with my baby sister.”

“Oh please,” Kathryn smirked. “How many estrum cycles have we helped each other through now? It’s not even worth counting anymore.”

“At least mine don’t last as long as yours do.”

“Well, I’ve got to have some advantages for being the fairer sex after all,” she winked, and Jensen laughed.

“Just be careful, okay? You’ve never used a shifter to get through your rut before. And by all three continents, Jensen, if you knock him up, you know there’ll be hell to pay…”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry. I’ve taken care of that.”

They kissed each other goodbye, then Kathryn looked up at Matt leaning by the rails on the upper deck, and waved at him. Matt smiled and waved back. Then she jumped into the auto-boat and headed to the shore.

Jensen watched her leave, keenly aware of the pair of eyes boring into the back of his head.

It was true – his annual rut had come upon him sooner than expected. And he had no choice but to rely on the courtesan for it. But there was something about this Matt that he was starting to find increasingly irresistible. Hell, for the first time in many decades, he might even enjoy it.

The yacht started moving a few minutes later, as Jensen remotely set it back on course to head further up the ocean. Dusk started to settle upon the horizon. Very soon the bright, sunny evening would morph into a gorgeous full-moon night.              

Jensen walked back up to Matt and put his arms around the boy’s slender waist. In his default form he was a few inches shorter than Jensen. His hair was jet black, and his eyes an alluring blue – in all respects this was indeed one gorgeous specimen. In comparison, some would deem Jared utterly ordinary. But in Jensen’s eyes the difference was night and day… with Jared being the moonlit night that Jensen wished he could live inside forever and ever.

“Shift.”

One word. And Matt complied immediately. He rose a few inches in Jensen’s arms, his eyes changed color, and his body lost nearly a quarter of its mass in the process.

“You once mentioned you wanted to experience an Alpha’s rut, remember?”

Matt, now Jared, blinked, and after a second nodded.

“It will be… challenging. Even for someone with your experience. Are you sure?”

“I-I… I am.”

Jensen couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, even though that’s the answer any courtesan would be likely to give. “Where is your toy box?”

He felt the boy tremble in his arms. “D-Downstairs.”

So they went back below deck to the main room, where he ordered Jared to strip again, and Jared complied.

“On the bed, on your stomach.”

The courtesan quietly laid himself down, with his face turned away from the Alpha. Jensen resisted the urge to reach out and fondle his gorgeous bottom. Instead he opened the ornate trunk made of cypress wood that Jared had dragged on board with him – the so-called toy box Matt had so often boasted about and even implored the Alpha to use. Jensen looked through the box and smirked to himself. This could be more fun than he’d originally thought.

Jared jumped at the touch of Jensen’s hand on his bare back, and the Lycan shushed him quietly.

“During rut, a Lycan knot tends to be… _bigger_ … in, um, all ways that count. And the aconite hasn’t been helping matters any so, we will need to stretch you again. A _lot_.”

When Jared didn’t react, the Alpha sighed, and inserted one finger into the orifice to feel the renewed tightness there.

“But let’s see if I can find something in here to make this a more… _fulfilling_ experience for the both of us…”

The first thing he found and liked was a length of red silk rope. He hadn’t practiced his shibari skills in decades, but tonight he couldn’t resist. He gently pulled Jared’s arms behind his back, lined the forearms up with each other, and then proceeded to wrap the rope around them from wrists to the middle of the biceps in a crisscross pattern. The design also served to hold Jared’s arms up and away from his delicious butt, which Jensen couldn’t refrain from caressing anymore.

Jared trembled but didn’t make a sound. Jensen could smell the little drops of pre-ejaculate starting to leak from the courtesan’s semi-erection. He spread the endless legs and pushed a hand underneath to grab hold of the shaft, making Jared gasp and nearly empty himself right then and there.

Jensen chuckled. “Not so soon, my little lynx. Or the night will be over far sooner for you than it’d be for me, and I’m sure you don’t want that.”

The younger being groaned. “Why do you call me a lynx anyway?” he asked, his curiosity helping him distract himself while Jensen pulled Jared’s genitals back from between his legs, took another short length of rope, and started to tie it around his shaft and scrotum.

“Because you remind me of a little wildcat I once found in the woods behind our house when I was a kid. Lithe, quiet, dangerous, but oh so obstinate… he was beautiful…”

Jared’s face was dotted with beads of sweat and his mouth was open, as if struggling to draw breath. Jensen fashioned a cage of sorts around the courtesan’s genitalia to make sure he couldn’t come unless Jensen allowed him to. He fondled the tightened balls in both hands, tickled the leaking tip, making Jared whimper like he’d never whimpered before. It made Jensen chuckle.

“Okay, either I did a phenomenal job with this knot, or you’re a truly gifted actor.”

Jared craned back at him through hooded, unreadable eyes and it just made Jensen shake his head in amazement. The wide range of toys in the trunk were a pretty good indicator of Matt’s capacity for pleasure. So this look of utterly innocent indignation on Jared’s face was so starkly contrasting and couldn’t possibly be genuine. Jensen wished it was, and in fact that was his intention for the night – to do everything he could to push Matt beyond his limits, make that adorably helpless expression on his face as real as it could possibly get.

“Let’s see what else we have in here,” Jensen pulled out two other toys and showed it to his captive audience.

Jared’s eyes widened dramatically at the sight of the two dildos – one was nine inches and bright pink with ridges carved in the underside. And other was a ten-inch black vibrator.

“I see you approve!”

Jared made a face that was so endearingly flabbergasted it made Jensen laugh out loud. He poured a generous amount of lubricant gel onto his fingers and went to work on greasing Jared’s entrance. He wanted to be thorough, and as attentive as he _hadn’t_ been the last few times they’d been together.

“You’re…ah… teasing…” Jared grunted, his legs twitching every time Jensen skimmed a fingertip over his sweet spot, clearly too lightly for Jared’s liking.

Jensen bit back a smile. “I guess you’re ready for the first one. Pink or black?”

“B-But they’re both so big…”

“Hey, it’s your toy box, and these are the starting sizes in here!”

The courtesan grimaced as if cursing himself silently. His face flushed a bright red, but eventually he made his choice. “Pink…”

It took a while but eventually Jensen managed to work the phallus into Jared until it was all the way in up to the base. Jared moaned, no longer feeling inhibited by whatever was going on in his mind until a few minutes ago. He spread his legs wide apart to take in more of the toy, scrunched up his face and closed his eyes, letting Jensen have his way as he wished.

He looked utterly delectable.

Jensen left the dildo in for a while, so Jared could get used to it, and took the time to explore the beautiful man’s body. Every inch of his smooth, hairless body was what the ancients would have called the personification of ‘sin’ – Jensen felt as helpless to resist it as maybe Jared did at the moment.

“Please, Alpha, please, make it move…”

 “Shh, of course, my darling, whatever you wish…”

Jensen worked the dildo in and out, rhythmically, steadily, persistently, over and over and over until Jared was practically sobbing in ecstasy. Every slide of the ridged underside massaged his prostate, causing his caged cock to leak.

“Please, let me come, Alpha, please…”

Jensen heaved breathlessly, feeling himself getting hotter and closer to the brink himself. Eventually he decided he couldn’t tease himself, or Jared, any longer.

“All right, my lynx, let me take care of you…”

He quickly undid the strings around the base of Jared’s cock and took just the tip into his mouth. Jared literally screamed, and arched up off the bed until Jensen pushed him back in place. Simultaneously, he unzipped himself and stroked himself until they both came together.

“Fuck, holy mother of… fuck!!”

Jensen chuckled. He’d never heard Matt curse before. In fact the shifter’s flagrant cursing now made him sound even more like the real Jared would have if he were still alive…

The Alpha froze, and then sighed.

Some days he wished he could shut that part of his brain off permanently, the part that knew that the real Jared Padalecki had been a liar, a deceiver, and a murderer. Oh and also, _dead_.

Jensen had to stand up and walk away, put some distance between himself and the vulnerable shifter writhing on the bed before him, unless he did something he regretted.

Jared panted near violently, still recovering from his explosive climax, and watched as Jensen started to pace back and forth across the room.

“Alpha?”

“…”

“Please Alpha, surely I must be ready for you now?”

Jensen sighed, unable to resist the shifter’s imploring and returned to the bed. He pulled the dildo out of Jared, making him gasp for the sensitivity, then tested the orifice with his fingers.

“Still needs work.”

“Oh, just get in there already, you wuss.”

Jensen’s eyes went incredulously wide as he looked up at the shifter. “No one has ever spoken to me like that before.”

Jared blinked, repeatedly, and then bit a drunken smirk back. “Guess there’s a first time for everything?”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Night fell over the Nyctimus while Jared ceded all control to the Alpha in every way possible.

Luminescent rays of moonlight streamed in through the windows, as he sank deeper and deeper into a state of euphoria. He lost track of time, lost track of his own identity – Jared, Matt, whoever he was – he couldn’t possibly care less. All he could care about was the endless pleasure and contentment Jensen had wrapped him in, impaled him with…

The red silk rope became the source of a mind-boggling paradox. It had him feeling utterly helpless yet completely safe. Powerless and yet strangely empowered to, for the first time in his life, put himself first. To not worry about someone else’s needs or feelings or expectations. To forget the past, ignore the future, and just be in the here and now, and just… _feel_.

The red silk rope was oddly liberating.

The spell broke when the Alpha suddenly stood up and moved away. Something seemed to have flicked a switch, and filled Jensen’s face with more emotion than there’d ever been before. Jared worried if he’d somehow given his true self away. He also wondered if that’d be a bad thing at all.

But then reason prevailed, and Jared realized that no matter how superhuman Jensen may be, he couldn’t possibly _not_ react anything but _badly_ to all of Jared’s truths – that he was alive and absconding from the law, that he was a fucking mutt, and that he’d basically been lying to Jensen since the day they met. Oh, and the best one – he’d been raised in a whorehouse, even though he wasn’t one himself. Though anyone seeing him in his current situation might vehemently disagree...

Jared hated himself for the continued deception. But he wasn’t ready to lose Jensen’s attentions just yet.

“Guess there’s a first time for everything?” He found himself teasing Jensen, hoping to use shock value to jolt Jensen back into the mood.

The Alpha gave him the most incredulous look ever, and it should have scared the daylights out of any mortal being. But then he chuckled with such adoration in his eyes, it made Jared want to cry.

Jensen looked a little better. His skin was still flushed but his breathing was more tempered. Slowly and purposely he untied Jared’s arms. Sensations started to return to the shifter’s limbs, sending painful tingles running down to his fingers. Jensen stood up then and began to undress himself. Jared turned onto his back and watched, enjoying the slow reveal of his Alpha’s perfect body bathed in the full moon’s light.

“Does the moon really affect your heat or rut cycles?”

The Alpha chuckled. “Not really. It’s just an urban myth that was quite popular in ancient times. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What do you mean?”

Jensen, now completely naked, climbed onto the bed and seated himself in between Jared’s open legs. “You’re not censuring yourself anymore. You’re… not afraid of me anymore…”

Jared craned his neck upwards, as if attempting to get close to the Alpha’s tempting red lips. “Is that a bad thing?”

Jensen hovered over him, watching the shifter’s mouth just as keenly as Jared was watching his. “Not bad per se, dangerous, maybe…”

“I don’t care, I want you, Alpha, please…”

And nothing more needed to be said. Jensen let out a low guttural growl before he lined himself up against Jared’s entrance and with one swift and forceful thrust, slid home. Jared gasped and whimpered as he adjusted to the Alpha’s truly impressive knot. He wasn’t kidding when he told Jared earlier of the impact the rut would have on the size of his cock. It felt positively monstrous.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen whispered, “This is why I prepped you so much…”

“N-No, it’s fine. You’re… ah… a perfect fit. I don’t know how I lived my life so long without you…”

Jensen stilled, and Jared bit his lip. He pulled back and let his head fall to the pillow underneath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wishing he hadn’t ruined the moment by opening his big mouth. “I feel strangely high, drunk… I shouldn’t have…”

The Alpha growled deep in his throat again. His breaths were short again, his body poised on his hands and knees over Jared as if he were a savage beast bracing to attack.

“Don’t be sorry,” he rasped, and then he started to move.

Jared grunted and moaned and pleaded for Jensen to go faster, harder, deeper… and Jensen complied without fail. Before long, he was thrusting in and out erratically, bringing them both to the glorious edge of their second releases.

“Oh, ma-h! Jensen!!”

It was the first time he had uttered the Alpha’s given name. Jensen looked up at Jared at that in surprise. Once upon a time he had permitted Jared the ‘human’ the use of his given name...

Lips descended on lips, finding each other in the soft glow of the moon, marking another first for the two sentient beings. Light exploded behind Jared’s closed eyelids as he tasted the Alpha on his tongue for the first time, lost himself inside Jensen’s mouth. Something sharp and tingling like electricity coursed through his very being. As if a mythical circuit had just been closed, a connection forged, linking him to the Lycan above him, inside him, in ways that couldn’t be revoked ever again.

Jared brought his arms around Jensen’s neck, and entwined his legs around Jensen’s waist, holding him in place so he couldn’t escape. This felt like home to Jared. Like he’d been drifting at sea for decades and suddenly been thrown a lifeline. And now that he knew what it felt like, he never ever wanted to let go. 

Jensen grunted almost painfully as he came. “Oh, my… Matt…”

“Jared,” Jared whispered harshly, desperately, “please, call me Jared.”

Jensen didn’t respond, probably because he was too busy re-capturing Jared’s mouth with his own and keeping him there for the rest of the night.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jensen knew it the moment it happened.

He felt it slowly blossom deep in his bones, rooted in the center of his very soul, and by the time he realized what it was – it was too late, too damn late to do anything about it.

His eyes glazed over until he was practically blind. And his heart raced faster than it had in eighty-four years, as the invisible strings of an eternal Lycan bond entwined his life force to that of the shifter writhing beneath him.

He felt it happen, and he _let_ it happen, didn’t do a thing to stop it. Kathryn had been afraid Jensen would do something stupid like impregnate the shifter. But even in her wildest dreams she wouldn’t have imagined Jensen doing something _this_ drastic.

Jensen Ackles was well and truly doomed.

The Alpha huddled in the armless chair, a good distance away from the bed (not that that helped anymore,) where his hired escort, and now mate, slept. Jared, actually Matt, had no idea what’d just happened.

Jensen stealthily pulled his clothes back on and sat back down on the chair, shaking. This was the worst thing that could have happened. Lycans mate for life. Once a bond was sealed it was broken only in death. And usually when one mate died, the other soon followed. This… this was an accident that simply could not be undone.

Jensen sighed and started to pace barefoot across the room. It was still dark out, a couple hours to go before the sun rose. For the life of him he couldn’t decide what to do next. Surely this was a mistake?

Lycans had always trusted the wolf spirit that resided within, to show them the way, lead each Lycan to their one true mate. There was a reason why they were known to be beasts of pure instinct. Hell, even the Sherans and the Equideans were known to be more rational. The wolves trusted their hearts more than their heads most of the time.

Could it be that Jensen’s wolf heart had led him astray? Could eons of Lycan heritage actually be sometimes… wrong?

Who exactly had he bonded with? – Matt? Or Jared? Jared was the supremely flawed human he’d fallen in love with, but Matt was the actual person – a shifter he’d mated with physically. Where exactly did the bond reside? – In the heart or in the body? Or both?

He couldn’t even begin to ponder the practical implications. How would he tell his Dad, leader of the Midworld Lycans, that he’d bonded with a… a shifter? And a prostitute at that? Not that Jared would have been any better – he’d been disgraced by human society and sentenced to death for murder, the worst crime of all.

And how would it work exactly – introduce Matt to the Lycan society as his mate by day, have him shift into Jared by night? How could that possibly be fair to Matt?

Jensen found himself on the verge of hyperventilation as the questions kept piling but no answers revealed themselves to assure him. He knew he had to get away from Jared, or Matt, whoever! He knew where he needed to go to find answers. And he needed to leave now, before his… _mate_ woke up and looked at him with that wretched bond shining in his exquisite almond eyes.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Hours later, Jared opened his eyes and found himself smiling. He didn’t even know why. It took a couple seconds to orient himself, remember where he was, and why. He blinked, suddenly anxious about his ‘cover’ and quickly shifted into Matt.

“A-Alpha?” He called out, voice still slurring with sleep. He received only silence and the sounds of the oceanic waves in return.

A plush white blanket covered him all the way to his chin, keeping him warm and too comfortable to want to get up. But get up he must. It was morning and as far as Jensen was concerned, the overnight session was over. So he might be expecting Matt to get out of his hair soon.

Jared got out of bed, found his clothes neatly folded and placed on top of a cabinet nearby. There was also a book resting perfectly on top of his pile of clothes. It was Jensen’s copy of the Count of Monte Cristo.

Jared frowned and smiled as well. The placement was too deliberate to be a mistake. He gathered his clothes, went into the bathroom, and emerged showered and fully dressed a few minutes later.

His smile began to falter when he couldn’t find Jensen anywhere. He looked everywhere he knew to look, but the yacht was once again completely abandoned. Something in his heart cracked a little, and Jared blinked a sudden rush of moisture away, feeling more distraught than he thought he should.

It was supposed to be a transaction, pure and simple. The Alpha had needed a vessel to vent his rut into, and now it was done and Jared – or Matt – had clearly overstayed his welcome. He sighed and bit his lip hard to keep it from trembling, crossed his arms in front of himself and went down to the swim deck where he last saw the auto-boat return after dropping Kathryn off.

He climbed into it and looked back one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful Alpha, thank him for the absolutely magical night they’d had together. He could only hope Jensen would call on him again – so he’d have a chance to talk to him about who he really was. Maybe next time he’d pluck up enough courage to actually say the words. Next time, he wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted by the Alpha’s devious attractiveness.

The thought of there being potentially a next time made him feel slightly better, but not much.

“Stormway, please.” He whispered softly to the AI, clutching Jensen’s gift to his chest with both hands. Silently he bid goodbye to the Nyctimus, letting the self-rowing craft carry him back to his lonely, miserable life.

 

 

** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- **

 


	7. Chapter 7

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Huffman Manor ruins  
_ ** **_Stormway, Manchester_ **

**_  
_ **

 

 

> _As Armstrong Industries begin the installation of their first drill, the Mers are leaving no stones unturned to try and block the project. They have been steadily acquiring support from a small cross-section of the human population. Latest example are two scientists at the Seismological Society of Manchester – Doctors A.J Buckley and Travis Wester, who’re claiming that Armstrong’s fast-cycled extraction plan will dangerously disrupt the fragile bedrock, and cause irreparable damage to seismic stability in the Bay area…_

 

Jared was back in his disorganized attic, researching Armstrong Industries and their possible connection to Adrianne’s murder. News on the plasma continued to relay latest developments from the Capital. At this point though they were just repeating stuff Jared had heard forty times already.

He was more driven now than ever before. Guilt usually had an effect on people. Guilt for sleeping with another so soon after _her_. Guilt for having feelings for another so soon after _her_ , maybe even having fallen in love with someone else so soon…

He browsed through every bit of information about Armstrong Industries that was publicly available. There had to be a link somewhere with P&S Associates. Maybe it was Adam Fergus. That weasel seemed to always have it out for Jared, trying to undercut him at every opportunity. Maybe he was jealous because he and Jared started their careers at P&S together, but Jared progressed faster while Fergus stayed where he was?

Multiple knocks at his door failed to distract him from his screens. So Alaina let herself in again, barely greeting the youth before heading to the kitchenette with a casserole in her hands.

“We ordered too much from that neo-Milanese place. You like lasagna, don’t you?”

Jared didn’t bother to respond. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

 

 

> _President Tapping is yet to break her silence on the matter, and her ratings are starting to slide. But since she’s just been re-elected, she’s probably not too worried just yet. Meanwhile, the people of Cathedral are sitting up and wondering if there’s something going on they’re not being told about. And if, or why, they should even care…_

 

Alaina served him a plate and brought it to his desk. She leaned over his left shoulder to squint at the four screens Jared had open, scrolling rapidly through tomes upon tomes of information.

“How are you even making sense of all this?”

Jared looked up at her briefly before going back to this screens. “I’m running an algorithm to try and find any connections between Armstrong and P&S Associates. So far, I haven’t been able to find anything.”

“Why didn’t you think of running this six months ago?”

“Because I had no idea that Armstrong could have been behind all this until the Mers started to protest at the pier, that’s why!”

“All right, all right, no need to get snippy with me,” Alaina pouted a little.

Jared sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe it’s all just a stupid coincidence…”

“Hey, isn’t that your boss, that Pellegrino guy?” Alaina pointed to the farthest screen. “Oh wait, sorry, just some kid. I was mistaken.”

Jared leaned forward and scrolled back to the last set of files just displayed. There were a couple of really old, obscure news articles about Curtis Armstrong, the founder and CEO of Armstrong Industries, making a commencement address at Stanford University in Westworld. There was only one man Jared knew who got his degree in international law there. The only one who spoke with a western twang that Mancunians found either exotic or annoying, or both.

“Good eye, Alaina!” Jared commended her as he narrowed his eyes at an unlabeled graduation photo that his algorithm had ignored. But looking at it now, he could clearly tell it was Mark Pellegrino.

It showed Mark shaking Curtis’ hand. Curtis also had a hand around Mark’s shoulder as together they smiled for the camera.

“So far this is the only connection I’ve found. A grainy old picture from twenty years ago. For all we know this could also be just another coincidence…”

Alaina took in Jared’s face, so full of hope yet lined with fear that this measly little lead would lead him nowhere. She loaded a fork with some lasagna and held it up to his mouth. Jared made a face at her, but knowing he wouldn’t win this standoff, parted his lips and let her feed him without protest.

“My opinion? It’s the absence of connections that’s kind of suspicious. Armstrong and Pellegrino are similar men, aren’t they? I mean… corporate, influential, politically connected, family money and all that. Cathedral is not a big city, and both men called it home for decades. So for them to have not met or interacted once in all this time?”

Jared nodded, understanding. “You’re right. It’s almost like someone’s been systematically erasing all threads connecting the two men and their companies together. Wait… the press conference at the Parliament!”

Alaina didn’t know what he was on about, but didn’t interrupt as Jared pulled up a couple of media reports. “Curtis Armstrong’s attendance at the conference was announced at the very last minute. And right after that, Mark dropped out.”

“Well, there you go.”

Silence reigned for a few moments, except the news, of course, that was now replaying Tahmoh’s arrest from seven days ago.

“I trusted him,” Jared whispered sadly. The anger would come later, he was sure. “He was my boss and mentor, I looked up to him so much, thought w-we were friends…”

“Friendship with humans. When has that ended well for our kind?” Alaina sighed. “But it’s probably better to talk to the Alpha about your suspicions first. Maybe he can help confirm them?”

Jared looked down into his lap. “Well, seeing how he didn’t show for his appointment yesterday, and has canceled for the next Friday too…”

He stood up and walked away from Alaina’s sympathetic hands attempting to squeeze his shoulders. “Looks like I missed my window of opportunity.”

He kept his face turned away, not wanting Alaina to see how hurt and heartbroken he felt that Jensen hadn’t returned for him. Jared truly believed they’d had something special that night, that they’d… built something together… obviously he’d been mistaken.

“So what do you want to do now?”

Alaina’s question pulled him back into the present.

“I’ve waited long enough. Six months… surely the headlines I made have faded from human memory by now. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Jared?”

“I need to prove my innocence. To myself, to Adrianne’s parents, to… to Jensen…” he trailed off.

Maybe the reason why he couldn’t reveal himself to the Alpha was because he had no proof to convince Jensen of the truth. But if he just went to Cathedral, found the evidence he needed against Armstrong and Mark…

A part of him didn’t _want_ to believe Mark could be involved. But he wouldn’t know for sure until he went there and found out himself.

“How can I help?”

Jared turned to the leader of shifters in Stormway, and couldn’t help but feel humbled. “You’ve already done so much for me…”

“Enough of the dramatics, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

Jared thought about it. “A human car. Nothing special, low-key, not digital, untraceable.”

Alaina nodded. “Easily arranged. I suppose you’ll also need a place to stay in the city.”

She picked up a stylus and quickly scribbled a note on one of Jared’s digipads. Through the back of the transparent pane, Jared noticed it was an address.

“No one will look at you twice in there.”

Jared nodded, accepting her offer gratefully. He did refuse the rest of the lasagna though, he needed to pack. It was time to return to where all this began – back to the capital city of Cathedral.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Santorini, southern coast of Midworld,  
_ ** **_New Tibet_ **

 

Jensen stood at the helm of his yacht, staring listlessly into the sea. His spine was ramrod straight as always, his eyes hidden behind black sunglasses, his jawline hard and impassive. Watching the Alpha right then, no human would suspect anything to be amiss. It would take a Loric’s sharp eye to notice the tiny tremors coursing through his long fingers resting on the steering wheel.

The past three days had been nothing but sheer torture.

Like a coward, Jensen had waited until Jared – _Matt_ – left his yacht, alone, looking every bit as dejected as Jensen felt himself. He knew it because he could sense his mate’s sadness through the bond, as much as he tried to ignore it. Even now, so far away from Stormway, he could sense that his mate was in turmoil. But right in that moment, Jensen was too preoccupied with his own troubles to be of use to anyone else.

Once Matt was gone (and the auto-boat returned after dropping him at the shore), Jensen raised anchor and sailed southwards, through the Bay of Eritrea, into the Aegean Sea. It took him two and a half days to reach his destination – the remarkably pristine ruins of Santorini.

Back in ancient times, Santorini used to be an island, part of an archipelago off the coast of a continent called Europe. Theory was, one of the tsunamis basically lifted the whole island out of the water and carried it eastwards… miraculously plonking it here, completely intact, onto the southern edge of the landmass now called Midworld.

These ruins of what was once clearly a gorgeous city, was where Jeffrey, an Alpha of the Morgan pack, made his home. This little corner of the planet was inhabited by no more than maybe eight hundred sentient beings of all kinds – humans, Lorics of all types, even shifters. Santorini was a true sanctuary established on two core tenets – peace and equality for all races. Very few places like this existed on the planet. It was no wonder that Jeffrey chose this spot to build a life of seemingly perpetual bliss with his mate, a human who went by the name, Andrew Lincoln.

Jensen had always counted on his biological father to help him find answers when he was feeling lost, show him the way forward when he could see none of his own. This time though, he wasn’t sure even Jeffrey could help.

“My son,” Jeffrey came to the pier where Jensen dropped anchor to receive him. He clutched Jensen to his chest for what felt like an eternity.

“I don’t see you enough. I never see you enough,” the older Lycan grumbled lovingly.

Jensen chuckled and pulled away. “And whose fault is that? You’re the one who decided to settle all this way outside of Albion, Dad, not me.”

Jeffrey smiled and let his son have the final word. “Come on, we’ve got lunch waiting at home.”

It was a beautiful Saturday noon, perfect for a stroll. The sun’s glare was bright hot, but the wind was cool and pleasant, not too gusty and not too humid, just right. As they ambled uphill towards the center of the town, father and son took the time to take each other in. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year.

Jeffrey was two hundred and twenty four years old. But by human standards he looked not a day over fifty. He was in phenomenal shape, strong, lean and broad-shouldered, and stood an inch or so over Jensen. He was dressed austerely as always: blue jeans and a black khaki jacket over plaid blue-and-white shirt. He always kept these big black-rimmed glasses on. Jensen wasn’t sure why – probably something he felt the need to hide behind. Either that or he was the first Lycan in recorded history with poor eyesight.

In comparison, Jensen wore black slacks and a maroon turtleneck sweater that made him look like, in Misha’s words, a prep school boy, whatever that meant.

Jensen had always thought his father was the handsomest Lycan in all of creation. Indeed the society of Albion credited Jeffrey for having passed his incredible looks and charm on to Jensen.

“You’re looking good, Dad.”

“You too, son. You look a little tired though. Is that husband of your mother’s working you to death again?”

Jensen rolled his eyes behind his shades. Alan and Jeff would never get along, Jensen had made peace with that. He, in fact, expected nothing less.

Hilarie and Jeffrey had had a fling back in their youth but they never bonded. Jensen was not planned, obviously, but later when Hilarie found her soulmate in Alan, the Ackles patriarch did not hesitate to adopt Jensen as his own. As far as he knew, there were no hard feelings between his mother and Jeff, but Alan was another matter.

“For the last time, I like working for Alan, Dad.”

“Just don’t let him turn you into one of his elitist cordilleran bureaucrats, promise me.”

Well, the chances of _that_ happening had been quite drastically reduced in the last three days. But Jensen wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet. 

“What would you have me do? Hunt down rogue wolves refusing to pay their taxes? Transport shifters crossing into Albion territory back to the border?”

“Hey, I kept Albion safe from unwanted elements. I took pride in that.”

Jensen smirked again, but didn’t disagree. Truth was, he was incredibly proud of his father.

The Morgans had always been an affluent pack who owned a number of forests and rivers in Albion, enough to live the high life for generations to come. And yet, Jeff had struck out on his own at a very young age. He gave up the family business to his brothers and joined the Loric enforcement service, serving for well over a hundred years before he retired. Jensen suspected he would have stayed longer on the force if he hadn’t met his mate.

“How is Andy doing?”

“Good! He’s looking forward to seeing you. He’s got an exhibition coming up in Reykia, that’s keeping him busy. He’s still at his studio and won’t be home until…” Jeff looked at his watch, “about two PM. That gives you two hours to tell me whatever’s on your mind.”

Jensen grimaced. “That obvious, huh?”

“I can always tell when you’re troubled, son, you know that. So what’s going on?”

Jensen took a deep breath and began. He confessed everything to his father, relieved to be finally able to speak his mind with… someone. Close as he was to Kathryn, she was still his little sister and he sort of liked the idea of her looking _up_ to him for a few more years.

He spoke from his heart, until there was nothing left to say. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and lowered his head, waiting for his father to tell him what an irresponsible little hound he’d proven himself to be.

“You’re very lucky.”

Jensen did a double take. “You didn’t hear a word of anything I just said, did you?”

Jeffrey took off his glasses so his son could meet his gaze, see the sincerity reflected in his brown irises. “Very few Lorics find their true soulmates, son, not even in five hundred years.”

“Okay, but which one is it? Matt or… Jared?”

“Well, who do you want it to be?”

Jensen frowned. “If I choose Matt, I think I’d miss Jared. And that’s not fair to Matt. But if I choose _Jared_ , how can I be bonded to someone who’s dead?”

“You don’t bond with a physical body, son. You bond with a _soul_ , a mind that’s somehow touched your own. You must have seen something in Matt that you attached to, even if it’s not obvious to you right now.”

Jensen pouted a little. “I can’t see anything right now. Matt can sometimes be a little… I don’t know – shallow, and obtuse maybe? Except when he’s Jared because then, then he’s… _Jared_.”

Jeffrey chuckled. “That’s your problem right there. You’re letting the physical appearance of this kid cloud your perception of him. May I make a suggestion?”

“It’s what I came here for.”

They entered the courtyard to Jeff and Andy’s cottage that stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the lagoon. Jeffrey closed the gate behind them, then put his hands on his son’s shoulders and squeezed gently.

“Take off your glasses.”

“Okay,” Jensen did as he was asked, squinting against the sun.

“Now close your eyes.”

Again Jensen obeyed without hesitation.

“Concentrate on the bond. Find it in your mind’s eye. Different people visualize it differently. I, for example, see my bond as strands of gold braided together. Don’t focus on who’s on the other end, just find your bond first. Can you do that?”

Jensen inhaled deeply and pushed all thoughts of both Jared and Matt out of his mind. It took patience and grit, and a lot more coaching from Jeff, but eventually he found it – a red silken length of rope – tethering Jensen to something precious and comforting and _loved_ , something – or someone – that Jensen knew deep in his gut, was his, all his.

“I see it,” he whispered, wheezing softly, seeing but not quite believing because… fuck, this was pretty amazing.

“Good, now, slowly, follow the bond. Walk with it, alongside it, to the other end. Tell me when you get there…”

“I’m there…”

“What does it feel like? Does the other end feel empty? Dark?”

Jensen shook his head. “Just the opposite…”

He couldn’t find the words to describe it. There were no shapes or forms, humanoid or otherwise, to speak of. Just a sensation of brightness and warmth that embraced him, made him feel whole.

“Very good, it means your mate is very much alive. Even if he happens to be riddled with imperfections, that shifter is your mate, Jensen. And it doesn’t matter what shape he decides to take – it really should be up to him, not you anyway.”

Jensen sighed and opened his eyes. He found his dad smiling at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I need to go see my mate right now.”

Jeffrey chuckled and led his son inside the house. “You do that, _tomorrow_. Today you’re going to let your old man take care of you, all right?”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

“I’m very proud of you, son.”

Jensen frowned despite the elation those words brought. “Those are the last words I was expecting you to say, Dad. Definitely not expecting them from Alan once he finds out I brought a shifter into the family.”

“Well, I for one, think it’s about time. Lycans accuse humans of being prejudiced but we’re no better. Shifters have been forced out to the fringes of society, both human and Loric. The squalid conditions they raise their kids in are so awful. And it’s appalling how we remain so apathetic towards them.”

Jensen nodded. Matt had, in his own meek way, alluded to it back on the yacht. Jensen too had seen too much of Stormway in recent weeks to be able to ignore the truth in Jeff’s words.

“So if the Alpha-apparent of Albion himself comes out with a shifter mate on his arm, it makes a strong statement that resonates across all three continents. This is a good thing, Jensen!”

Jensen smirked then. “You just want to see Alan lose his shit, don’t you?”

“Well, that too.”

They shared a chuckle, then Jensen sobered up. “Seriously though, Dad, there’s a real possibility Alan might disown me.”

Kathryn was more than capable to take over as pack Alpha. And Jensen would be more than happy if she did step up to assume her rightful place. But she had no interest in business or politics, both being kind of mandatory requirements of the job.

“You never know, I might have to bring Matt over here and settle in Santorini as well.”

Jeffrey suddenly looked very serious. “There’s nothing I’d want more, son. You know that, don’t you?”

Jensen quietly nodded. For the first time in three days, he was starting to see great possibilities. And he was feeling better about his new relationship status as well.

He couldn’t wait to get back to Matt in three days.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_1 st Precinct, Capital PD  
_ ** **_Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Assistant Detective Lisa Berry collapsed into her chair with a heavy thud.

Every conversation she had with the Captain these days left her feeling like she was about to lose her job. All because of this one cold case she’d been working on in her spare time. The case she was having a really hard time letting go of.

It’s not that any of her current cases were suffering because of her obsession. Berry was really good at what she did, after all. It was more the implication that this precinct had not done the best it could on such a high-profile case. And that somehow this _rookie_ who joined the force barely a year ago, thought she knew better. Better than stalwarts like Kurt Fuller, who’d been the lead detective on said case, and had retired since then. 

But Lisa wasn’t deterred no matter what her colleagues said to her, or behind her back. The facts simply didn’t add up. And nothing irked her more than the thought of a victim not getting the justice they deserved.

Lisa looked at her watch and sighed. She needed more coffee. But the swill at the station only served to give her a massive headache. She got up, donned her brown leather jacket, and decided to walk her usual route to Café Madeleine’s three blocks away. Rain or shine, Lisa always made this coffee run twice a day. Yet another symptom of her slightly obsessive disposition – something she had in common with the victim of her cold case – Adrianne Palicki.

As she walked, her mind continued to try and process the timeline of events as she knew it. Jared and Adrianne met in college and had been together for five years. They were engaged to be married two days after the incident. Two days!

Fuller was quick to write it off as a crime of passion. Allegedly, Jared came home from a party and the couple got into an argument. In a fit of rage, Jared picked up a decorative marble bust depicting the prehistoric-ancient God Aphrodite (the god of love and passion, ironically) and hit Adrianne on the back of her head. The victim fell to the ground, tried to crawl away, and that’s when Jared allegedly hit her again, this time finishing the job.

When detectives Berry and Fuller arrived at the scene, they found the dead woman on a cream-colored carpet, soaked in her blood. What made the scene doubly macabre was the fact that she was wearing her wedding dress – a lacy, off-shoulder, traditional white gown that reminded Lisa of her own dress from six years ago.

She shook her head as if to dispel the images of the gruesome crime scene from her mind. The coffee shop was barely a few feet away when she heard someone behind her, calling her name. Footsteps hurried towards her. Lisa paused and turned around, wondering who it was.

“Detective Berry!”

Lisa frowned. “Detective Fuller? W-What are you doing here? I thought… aren’t you supposed to be in Zeppen?”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared had been in Cathedral for four days without making any progress. And with every passing hour, his frustration rapidly grew.

He was staying in the seediest part of town at another shifter brothel, except this one was not as high-end as the Chatoyant. Hell, it wasn’t even clean. Alaina was right though, it was a place where nobody looked at nobody else, and no one cared if you were a convicted felon who supposedly died in a police shootout six months ago.

The room he’d been furnished with was private, but the walls were paper thin. The long series of clients visiting the prostitute next door were loud and vociferous in their declaration of love for this woman (occasionally a man), both during and after bouts of sex. In between when the woman (or man) rested, those were the periods of peace and quiet that Jared used to get his research done.

On day three, he managed to hack into a social network site for cops. Most of it was useless. But then Jared scrolled back a few weeks and found a thread that stood out. Apparently a bunch of cops from the 1st precinct had been gossiping about a certain female rookie detective. Someone who had her head in the clouds, who couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, and was hell-bent on proving that the Silver Oaks homicide was never truly solved.

Silver Oaks – that was the name of the building where Jared and Adrianne once lived.

Jared realized he knew this detective – Lisa Berry. He recalled the look in her eyes as she sat across the table in the interrogation room. The other detective had been a complete asshole, Fuller something. Almost like he wasn’t even interested in uncovering the truth. But _she_ had believed him.

So here he was, having stalked the precinct where Berry was stationed for two days. He discovered the detective’s penchant for specialty coffee from Madeleine’s. Soon as he saw her coming around the corner, about to enter the café, Jared stepped out of his car and trotted down after her.

“Detective Berry!”

Lisa spun around, her frown of curiosity quickly turning into one of shock. “Detective Fuller? W-What are you doing here? I thought… aren’t you supposed to be in Zeppen?”

Jared had in fact chosen Fuller for that very reason: he’d retired and was holidaying on Mount Fuji as they spoke.

Kurt Fuller smiled, but it came out more as a grimace. “I-I came back early, because I needed to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Jared, as Kurt, dug his hands in his blue jacket pockets and tried to look as contrite as he thought would look realistic. “I haven’t been sleeping, Berry. I think, for my very last case to turn out the way it did…”

He petered off, hoping Berry would fill in the rest. But Lisa didn’t take the bait. Jared dug deep, tried to recall everything he could about the obnoxious, sixty-year old cop who’d manhandled Jared. Roughly enough to contribute significant traces of his skin into Jared’s shifter database.

“Look, I admit I was in a hurry to get things wrapped up and get out of there. It was definitely... unprofessional.  And I realize it’s too late for that boy but, if we can get the girl some justice then maybe, maybe that helps me sleep again. You know?”

Lisa looked at him for a whole minute, before she sighed and seemed to capitulate. “Let me get my coffee, then we can talk in my office.”

“I’m buying the coffee. And we talk here,” Fuller looked sheepish. “I haven’t told the boys about my little crisis of conscience yet.”

Lisa headed inside the café and Jared quietly followed. Once they found a table in a relatively private corner, Lisa sat down and leaned back in her chair. “So, where do you want to start?”

Fuller leaned forward instead. “When did we start to disagree?”

Lisa smiled sadly. “When you completely ignored the profile I drew up for the suspect?”

“Again, I am sorry.”

Lisa waved him off. “This boy, Padalecki, had zero impulsive tendencies. Everything he said or did was so carefully planned and deliberate. All his social interactions on record showed no noticeable blips in emotional quotient. Everyone he ever spoke to that _I_ spoke to, described him as exactly the same – polite, kind, even-tempered, soft-spoken. The term ‘gentle giant’ came up a lot.”

“But the man was getting married, Berry. Weddings, especially these nouveau-Christian ones, can be quite stressful. Wasn’t that the prosecution’s argument?”

Lisa shrugged. “I agree he was repressed in some ways, I could swear he was hiding something. Which is why I couldn’t completely make up my mind at the time.”

Jared bit his lip, and the big vein in his neck throbbed visibly. Back then he’d contemplated taking Berry into confidence and revealing his true race to her. If he’d really wanted to kill Adie, he could have simply shifted into someone else to do it, changed his fingerprints and his DNA, and saved himself all the fucking trouble. The argument may not have stood up against the ‘crime of passion’ theory but it’d have created enough reasonable doubt. But after years of being in the closet, he just couldn’t do it. He feared coming out as a shifter in the Mancunian capital would give biased humans in power all the more reason to cement that fraudulent case against him, destroy him even faster.

“In retrospect,” Berry continued, “the chances of his very first outburst being so violent over what – seating charts? That seems implausible to me.”

“No way to prove it though, right? What else?”

“Forensics report on the murder weapon – the bust – the report that you didn’t bother to read, or read selectively? Yes, it confirmed the killer’s height was a perfect match to Jared. But it also said there was a six percent probability the killer was left-handed, and may have used a back-handed motion to feign otherwise. Jared was right-handed.”

Fuller’s jaw clenched subtly, but Lisa didn’t seem to notice.

“I know six percent is a hard-sell in court. But you and I have both seen cases where that’d be enough to make a difference between an innocent’s life and death.”

“But Jared’s fingerprints were all over that bust.”

“So were Adrianne’s! It was their home, of course they’d have their fingerprints on everything in there. But an accomplished lawyer like him, why didn’t he wipe it down before calling the cops?”

Fuller snorted softly. “Still, prosecution’s argument was that it was a crime of passion, not premeditated. What if a part of him was so traumatized and guilt-ridden, that maybe he _wanted_ to be caught?”

“That’s not what he told us, remember? Not when we loaded him up, not in interrogation, and definitely not in that court where he pled his case over and over again.”

“…”

Lisa leaned forward and put her forearms on the table. “There was one other thing that… it was just a gut thing. No way to actually prove it in court but...”

“What is it?”

Lisa sighed. “Adrianne Palicki came from a family that held strong beliefs in prehistoric Judeo-Christian mythology. All her wedding arrangements were authentically traditional. Even her wedding dress was white to signify a hilariously archaic concept of virginity before marriage. I find it hard to believe she let Jared see her wedding dress. That’s a huge superstition and I would know, I married into the same old-school traditions myself.”

The shifter closed his eyes and tried not let the memories overwhelm him in that moment. He needed to maintain this cover just a little while longer.

“So, what you’re telling me, Berry, is that the real murderer is someone about six feet four inches tall, left-handed, and someone Adrianne Palicki knew well enough to show her wedding dress to?”

“In a nutshell. Also, someone who was intimately familiar with security at Silver Oaks. He managed to evade all the surveillance sweeps, and once inside, erased their apartment’s security records for the last 24 hours.”

“Mark Pellegrino fits that bill.”

Lisa started, frowned at the retired veteran. “Jared Padalecki’s boss? What makes you say that?”

It took all of Jared’s strength to keep from screaming. The anger and betrayal he felt was damn near paralyzing. “I don’t know, a hunch I guess.”

“But he was at the capital fundraiser in City Hall that night.”

“All night? Or is it possible he slipped out and back in with nobody noticing? Didn’t you think it strange that Jared kept asking to speak to his boss, as if he expected Pellegrino to come rescue him, but the man didn’t even bother to return Jared’s calls?”

Lisa sighed contemplatively. “It’s not uncommon for high-profile firms to distance themselves from scandal. Even if it’s at the expense of colleagues and friends.”

“That’s true. But Jared was a loner, painfully awkward in social settings, and I don’t believe he had any friends in Cathedral except Pellegrino. Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”

Lisa hiked up an eyebrow, “You did read the profile.”

Jared shifted uncomfortably; this woman had him figured to a tee. “So what’s your next move?”

“My next move is to try and move on from this cold case. Jared Padalecki is dead, nothing we do now is going to bring him back.”

“If you truly believed that, you would have moved on by now, Berry. But there’s a reason we have no statute of limitations on murder. I suspect neither of us will find peace until we bring Adrianne’s real killer to justice.”

Lisa looked away and didn’t respond. So Jared pressed on. “I’d start by looking at Jared’s professional associates over at that law firm.”

“You’re thinking Pellegrino may have had an illicit relationship with Adrianne behind Jared’s back?”

Jared nearly balked at the idea. But before he could react, Lisa scrunched up her face. “Actually, no, scratch that,” she gestured with a flick of her right hand. “Adrianne Palicki was not the kind of person to cheat on Jared. She loved him.”

Fuller gulped hard, as if trying not to get emotional.

“I can’t imagine who at the law firm might have a vendetta against Adrianne.”

“Maybe the vendetta was against Jared. Maybe this was their way of getting him out of the way, discrediting him for some reason.”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “You think this had something to do with that Albion treaty Jared was working on?”

She was getting close, and for now that’d have to be enough. Jared quickly stood up and put his shades on. “That’s for you to find out, Detective Berry. You are the one in charge now. And I for one, am very glad for that.”

Lisa stood up too, looking confused.

“I have to leave now, before the boys see me here and I have to explain why I’m back. I’ll be in touch once I’m officially home. Thank you, Lisa, for everything.”

Obviously Lisa had no idea that it was _Jared_ thanking her, for her little kindnesses and her big commitment to seeking true justice for Adrianne. He was beyond grateful, and one day hopefully, he’d be able to say so to Detective Berry as himself.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Lisa watched the ex-detective stride out of the café with more agility than she’d ever seen him exercise before. Retirement was treating him better than expected. Hell, he even seemed to have grown a conscience. Which was strange because six months ago, Lisa could have sworn the man was collecting kickbacks from a bunch of bad guys on a regular basis.

Lisa picked up her coffee mug and made her way back to the precinct. There was an active case load to go take care of, after all.

As she walked, she couldn’t stop thinking back to the conversation she’d just had. Suddenly she came to a halt in the middle of the street, her mouth falling open around the most explicit curse she could think to award herself.

“Oh my fucking goodness…”

Lisa ran all the way back to the precinct in a state of panic. Once there she immediately sought out Heyerdahl, an administrative lackey who used to hang out with Fuller – one of the ‘boys’ as Fuller often said.

The man was perched on a corner of his deck, chucking peanuts from a jar and watching the news on the station’s big plasma. A handsome brunet man in his early forties was being interviewed by Emily Perkins of the Daily Show on MNN.

  

 

> _“Mr. Collins, you’re representing the Peniketts at this meeting with the delegation from Armstrong Industries. What can you tell us about the agenda for today?”_
> 
> _“Yes I’m here, not just on behalf of my_ dear _friend, Prince Tahmoh Penikett, but also on behalf of the leaders of Albion to try and come to a mutual understanding…”_

 

“Hey, Chris,” she nodded at him as she came to stand by his side. “Heard from Kurt recently?”

The bearded middle-aged man frowned, probably wondering why Lisa was asking about Fuller after such a long time.

“No, but he was online two days ago posting his skiing pictures, if that’s what you mean.”

“Still on Mount Fuji, then?”

“Where else? Don’t think he’ll be satisfied until he’s broken a bone or two.”

“Can I take a look?”

“Sure,” Heyerdahl pulled up his digipad and opened Fuller’s social media page. There he was, dressed in extreme winter gear and a pair of ski goggles covering half his face. But she could clearly make out the angry red tinge of his complexion in the pictures. It was a Fuji thing – everyone got that strange shade of tan after spending a couple hours on top of the highest volcano in Midworld, and didn’t lose it for weeks. Probably thanks to the cinnabar-rich lava deposits in the area.

The flight from Zeppen to Cathedral was barely two hours, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was… the Fuller she’d just met had had a pasty white complexion.

 

 

> _“But is it true, Mr. Collins that the agreement itself does permit humans the right to harvest essential resources from the Bay of Eritrea…”_
> 
> _“Ms. Perkins, that’s exactly what we’re gathered here to discuss – the spirit, and not just the letter, of the agreement which entrusted the well-being of the Mers to the good people of Manchester, to all of us…”_

Lisa thanked Chris for the random chat, returned to her office, closed the door and leaned heavily against it.

She’d been played, that much was clear. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to be too upset about it. If anything, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her chest.

It explained a lot.

Like why Wembley prison expedited the cremation of Jared’s body so soon after retrieving it from the woods. Tapping loyalists in the force would have done pretty much anything to help her save face and secure her re-election. Maybe _this_ was the big secret Jared had been living with back when she’d met him.  

Lisa smiled. Then she got to work. She picked up her phone and the first call she made was to her favorite judge at the judicial court next door.

“Hey Malik! I need a surveillance permit for an old case from six months ago. Got a new lead I’d like to pursue. Subject is one Mark Pellegrino. Yes, thanks, I’ll hold…”

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 


	8. Chapter 8

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 _ **Aboard the Nyctimus,**_  
_**Somewhere on the Aegean Sea**_  


“How did it go?” Jensen asked the holographic image of Misha hovering over his phone.

Misha didn’t look very happy.

“They’re not going to budge. All geothermal scans of the Bay show that _that_ spot is the richest deposit of lustrum anywhere on the planet. They’re not going to just give it up.”

Jensen sighed. The greed of men never ceased to astound him. Didn’t matter that digging so close to the shoals where the Mers lived was as good as destroying their homes in the long run.

“Humans don’t understand why this is a big deal. They relocate their own people based on real estate development plans all the time.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand this, Misha. How is Tahmoh doing?”

Misha pulled his tie off. He’d clearly just returned home at the end of a long day. He stretched out on his couch with a soft groan.

“To everyone else he’s a magnanimous prince. But when he turns to me, he’s back to being a smug sonofabitch with a permanent ‘I told you so’ etched on his face.”

Jensen chuckled. That sounded like Tahmoh all right.

“How are you? _Where_ are you?” Misha asked, trying to decipher the scenery in the background behind Jensen.

Jensen leaned back to let Misha see that he was in the wheelhouse of his yacht. “I, uh, am going to see Jar- I mean, Matt.”

“The mutt?”

“Stop calling him that.”

Misha blinked, a little taken aback by the rebuke. A second later, he smiled. “This is what I believe they called poetic justice back in the day, my Alpha. All day long I’ve been hearing it _for_ you, now I get to say it back _to_ you – _I told you so_.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “It’s not what you think. Actually, it’s much, much worse.”

“How so?”

Jensen winced and scratched his temple. “Have you ever heard of… accidental bonding?”

Misha immediately rose to his feet. “That’s not good, is it?”

“Not really, no.”

The two friends sighed together, and no further explanation was required.

“What are you going to do?”

“The right thing. He is my mate, he has the right to a life with me, beside me, in Albion. I’m going to give it to him.”

“But he’s not Lycan. Does he even know you two are bonded? Does he feel it the way you do?”

“Good question,” Jensen winced again. “Lycans are… physically, spiritually and constantly aware of it when it’s there, and feel its loss acutely when it’s not. But a non-Lycan feels the bond in less tangible ways. Andy, for example, can’t visualize the bond like my dad can. And Andy does get cranky if they’re physically apart, but Dad? He basically goes _nuts_ if he’s parted from Andy for more than a few days. His chest hurts, his hands shake. By the eighth day his insides are twisting and burning like he’s been poisoned. Continued distance might even convince the wolf inside that his mate is dead, and might just die from that trauma himself.”

“Oh wow, that’s… wow.”

“There are couples that have it worse, in that they can’t be physically apart from each other for more than a few _hours_ without getting violently ill. And death follows in a matter of hours not days.”

“That’s one hell of a ball and chain, I mean for _you_ , Jensen. Your life could be literally in your mate’s hands. Seems a little unfair, actually.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Jensen chuckled. “But that’s the worst case scenario. Right now I’m just itching to get back to Matt. I’ve been away for five days now and it’s starting to grate on my nerves and making me growl and rip up all the furniture aboard to shreds.”

Misha squinted. “He doesn’t know yet, does he?”

Jensen shook his head. “He’s probably feeling whatever he’s feeling without knowing it as the bond. He might be feeling slightly off, like he forgot something and can’t remember what. Or like something’s missing but he can’t quite put a finger on it. Would he know it’s _me_ that he’s missing? Has he fallen in love with me too? Don’t know. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“W-What if he’s not… I mean, without a Lycan’s biological imperative, is it possible for him to, say, _not_ want to be bonded?”

Jensen glanced at the vast blue ocean stretching as far as his eyes could see. “Anything’s possible, my friend. It is possible Matt wouldn’t want to be with me at all. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Misha didn’t press the issue after that.  Instead, he tried to distract Jensen by changing tracks to talk about his own romantic conquests (or lack thereof) in the last month. Jensen quietly smiled and listened, but his mind flashed back to the conversation he’d had with Andy last night.

 

**** -- ****

 

His dad’s human mate was less than half of Jensen’s age. And yet he saw Jensen like Jeff did – as a son, almost, which Jensen found amusing.

Andy was lean, maybe too lean, with skin a warm shade of caramel, and eyes as deep and mysterious as the blue lagoon. His hair, which was the same shade as Jared’s, curled softly at the top of his long neck. At five feet ten, the Lycans towered over him. And yet Andrew had a presence that filled a room like Jensen had never seen before. Every being in his proximity would instinctively gravitate towards him.

“You’ve come a long way, Jensen,” the human had observed at the dinner table in that tranquil Reykian accent of his.

Jensen looked up at Andy, found him staring into his wine glass with a soft smile on his lips. Dad had just left to fetch another bottle of Syrah from the cellar.

“I still remember how you looked at me, the first time you met me. You were growling deep in your chest and didn’t even know it.”

Jensen shrugged apologetically. “I was angry. All I saw was an outsider who’d forced my dad to leave Albion, made him a pariah in his own community. It was never about you being… human, you know that.”

Andrew sighed, “Actually, I think it was. Not out of prejudice, I know that.” He cut Jensen off before he could even begin to protest. “You were upset, because your father had bonded with a being whose lifespan is no more than seventy years, eighty at best.”

Jensen’s jaw hardened and he looked away.

It was extremely rare, but not unheard of, for a Lycan to survive the death of a mate. It was hard, hell, damn near impossible, and excruciating, and traumatizing for many years before it got better. But it _could_ happen. Hell, if anyone could do it, Jeffrey Dean Morgan could. Except, Jensen knew his dad wouldn’t want to.

He sighed, tried not to think of the possibility of losing his Dad.

“And now I’ve gone ahead and bonded with a being that also has less than half of my lifespan. That is ironic, I know.”

Andy didn’t respond. From a distance they could hear Jeffrey whining. “Where is it, _jaan_? I can’t find it!”

“I’ll bet you anything it is right there in _front_ of his nose and he can’t see it,” Andy whispered, shaking his head in exasperation, making Jensen chuckle softly.

“Hey, do you mind if I ask – what does ‘ _jaan’_ mean? I’ve been wanting to ask Dad for years but I was afraid it might be… too much information for a son to know about his father.”

It was Andy's turn to snort. “It’s Silankan for, um, life. As in the life-force that animates a sentient body.”

Such a simple, singular word. But in Jeff using it to describe his mate, it suddenly stood for something so pure, so overwhelmingly… profound.

Jeff continued to whine about how he couldn’t find anything down there, and why did Andy have to be so damn finicky for Fenrir’s sake. It made them laugh again, and the tension broke some more, this time for good.

“I’d do anything for your father, you know that, right? Hell, I even tried to…”

“I know, I know you did,” Jensen leaned over and grabbed Andy’s hand for just a moment. “Please never do that again.”

Andy chuckled and nodded, “Learnt my lesson. Never again.”

Jensen let him go. “Good.”

They exchanged a quick look of solidarity before Jeffrey returned, still grumbling about this, that and the other. That prompted the mates to launch into another inane argument which wasn’t really an argument, just their way of bantering back and forth. Might even be foreplay, Jensen suspected, and tried very hard not to think about it.

After dinner, he went to the porch outside, admiring the waning gibbous moon as it pulled monumental waves from the ocean towards itself. Every now and then, he turned back to the house and through the tall windows, watched Jeff and Andy standing in the kitchen, doing the dishes.

He watched the Lycan stand behind the human and hold him ever so tenderly by his narrow waist. Jeff’s broader frame practically engulfed the smaller man, as he kissed the side of Andy’s sparsely stubbled face over and over again. He watched Andy lean back against Jeff, trying hard not to giggle, or give in to the temptation of turning his face and meeting his mate’s lips with his own.

They were perfect together, Jensen thought. Even if it was fragile and fleeting and wouldn’t last forever. Or maybe that’s what made it so beautiful to begin with.

Eventually though he had to look away, blushing. It happened when his father’s hands traveled down Andy’s body to fondle his slender ass. 

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Aboard the Nyctimus, Jensen shook himself back into the present, trying to make sense of whatever Misha was still rattling on about.

“I have to go, call me after. Tell me how it goes?”

“Uh, sure,” that much Jensen understood.

After Misha hung up, Jensen considered giving Alaina’s office a call but decided against it. He wanted to surprise Matt with what hopefully would be wonderful news. And besides, it felt somewhat wrong to make an appointment for Matt’s time.

Matt was his mate, his partner for life... not a courtesan for hire anymore.

That was another thing he couldn’t wait to do – to ask Matt to quit the Court and move in with Jensen. Something about the idea still made him anxious though, probably since it was just so _new_. Would it be appropriate to ask Matt to shift into Jared now? And if he never shifted into Jared, would Jensen still love him for everything he was? Would spending more time with Matt – just as Matt – solve the dilemma in his heart and mind?

Jensen sighed heavily. Guess he was going to find out soon enough.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Alaina’s offices, Chatoyant Court,  
Stormway, Manchester_ **

****

Alaina huffed impatiently at the young man standing in her office with his fists on his hips, pouting childishly.

“It was a brand new toy box, I’d barely even unwrapped everything in it!” Matt groused.

“I’m sorry, Matt, I honestly don’t know what to tell you,” Alaina consoled him. “I still find it hard to believe someone would steal it from your suite. Are you sure you didn’t leave it somewhere? Last weekend at Stuart’s, maybe?”

She felt bad putting it on Matt, knowing it was actually Jared who forgot to bring the box back from the Alpha’s yacht.

“No, I didn’t!” Matt crossed his ankles and jutted his hips out to the left. “James isn’t ready for the box yet, I’m working on it. But I promise you, it was upstairs. And now it’s not.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just order you a new one, all right?” She started to gather her things to put in her tote bag, indicating to Matt that this conversation had gone on for much too long at this point.

“Um, okay, thank you very much, my lady!” Matt said, satisfied somewhat.

She waved him away and he bowed slightly before turning to leave. He’d barely gotten three steps past Alaina’s glass door when he ran into someone coming up from the other direction. _Again_.

Alaina craned up from her chair in curiosity to see who it was, then immediately stood up when she recognized the visitor.

Jensen Ackles came up the stairs outside Alaina’s offices until he stood toe-to-toe with Matt. He bowed his head gently in greeting and looked at the courtesan with an indescribable expression on his face. There was affection, and happiness. But there were also questions, and doubts he was trying really hard not to let show.

Matt back-pedaled a couple steps until his back was right against a wall. A wide, guileless grin spread across his face as he brought his arms up around the Alpha’s neck and drew him into a kiss. Alaina’s jaw fell open and she looked away for a minute, wondering what to do.

Why was the Alpha here, out of the blue? Why did he not make an appointment?

When she turned back, the men were not kissing anymore. They were doing something far worse – talking.

Alaina pulled at her crimson form-fitting dress, smoothing it down to the end of her knees. Then took a deep breath and ran in her stiletto boots out of her office.

“Alpha!! What a pleasant surprise!”

The Lycan pulled away from Matt and turned to quickly greet the lady of the Court.

“I’m sorry, Alpha, did we miss your call perchance?”

“Uh, no, I _didn’t_ call. I was just hoping to see if I could take Ja- I mean Matt out for coffee, or something…”

Alaina blinked, not understanding, but then neither did Matt. “Coffee?” he asked, maybe even a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” Alaina interrupted, “but Matt has an appointment that cannot be rescheduled.” And that was the truth.

Both Matt and Jensen turned to look at Alaina.

“Matt, shouldn’t you be getting ready? Stuart doesn’t like to be kept waiting, you know that.”

“Uh, yes, that’s right,” Matt bit his lip as he looked at Jensen. “I’m sorry, Alpha, I really must go.”

“Wait, you don’t have to… that’s why I wanted to talk to you…”

“And we will, of course,” Matt took Jensen’s outstretched hand and patted the back of it. “But please understand, Stuart _made_ an appointment. And it would be highly unprofessional for me to upset one of our regular clientele, you see?”

That’s what Alaina was going to say, but now she didn’t have to. She watched Jensen’s hand drop, and his expression glazed over with something akin to sadness as he watched Matt walk away.

“Could I interest you in sampling something different tonight, Alpha?”

The Lycan spun to look at Alaina with such an offended look in his eyes, like she’d suggested he go screw himself with a goat. It made her almost step back in fear for her life. Almost.

“I’m so sorry, Alpha, I just wish there was something I could do to compensate for your…”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off tersely. “When is Matt available?”

She quickly flipped her digipad on to look at the schedule, or rather pretended to. Jared was still not back from the capital. And she didn’t know how much longer he’d be. She decided to buy him as much time as she possibly could.

“Um, how about your usual time – Friday night?”

“It’s Tuesday today.”

She grimaced. “I know, I’m so sorry but there is no other availability. Unless someone cancels…”

Jensen looked utterly disgusted. But she wasn’t entirely sure it was directed at her, or even Matt for that matter. “Fine, I’ll see him then.”

With that he stalked out of the mansion, and Alaina slumped against the wall. She thanked the stars none of her assistants were around to see her so flustered.

“For fuck’s sake,” she cursed under her breath, “Where are you, Jared?”

 

 

** -- ** -- ** -- **

****

 

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Tiger Tiger, Haymarket,  
Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Mark Pellegrino sat at a table with three of his associates, downing his third shot of rice-vodka. They were celebrating yet another win in the Manchester vs. Benedict case. A case that was going to make Pellegrino very, very rich indeed. Enough to buy a mountain, or a river, or a sprawling ranch, and head back home to Westworld where he belonged.

It’s not that he hated Manchester. On the contrary, he and his wife, Emily, had built a wonderful life here together. The law firm was the most successful in all of Midworld, and honestly things couldn’t possibly get any better.

But Pellegrino missed the wide open spaces he was brought up in. The cramped and ultra-crowded streets of Cathedral made him miss home even more. He still remembered Connecticut – the quaint but bustling little town that’d been built on land leased from the Sherans. When the lease ran out, those damn freaks refused to renew or sell the land to the humans, even when they offered three times the price.

“Your currency cannot make up for the damage you inflicted,” they’d said.

All they cared about, were the trees that were cut down and some furry little animal that was apparently on the brink of extinction. But they didn’t give a damn to the hundreds of humans who had to leave their homes and find other places to live across this cursed planet.

He wasn’t delusional enough to think he could get Connecticut back like it was. But he was very close to amassing enough wealth to, at the very least, buy his childhood home back. He’d made far too many sacrifices, done too many questionable things to turn back now.

Mark stood up and went to the bar to buy more drinks. His team of associates were having a good time, too busy to notice their boss’ melancholy mood this evening. He downed a fourth shot of rice-vodka at the bar, and waited for his beer to arrive.

All day long, he’d felt rather… off, uncomfortable in his own skin. He couldn’t shake this strange feeling that somehow he was being followed, or watched. It set his teeth on edge. And he couldn’t relax long enough to enjoy their big victory.

“Here you go, sir,” A bartender brought his drink and Mark nodded at him in thanks. He left a generous tip and swiveled around on his bar stool, intending to head back to his table when something on the far end of the bar caught his eye.

A hand, a feminine hand with long slender fingers, and painted red nails, rested atop the glossy counter surface, next to a ball glass full of what looked like blue jenever. At over seventy percent alcohol content, that was one of the hardest drinks known to mankind. And in all his years, in all of Manchester, he’d only known one woman who ever ordered that drink.

Mark felt his mouth run dry. He leaned backwards to try and get a better look at the woman. From where he sat, he could see a tall, slender silhouette leaning against the bar with a head full of waist-length golden curls. She had her legs crossed at the ankles. The slit in the back of her white dress revealed her creamy calves but not much else. That dress looked familiar too.

He stood up and, slowly inched down the bar towards the woman whose face he was yet to see. The club was dark and loud as it usually was this time of the night, teeming with people come in to unwind at the end of a long, tedious Tuesday. A couple of overhead spotlights spilled soft yellow light precisely, if somewhat serendipitously, all over this woman. Or maybe she chose that very spot to showcase her tall, beautiful form in the best light possible.

Alarm bells were ringing in Mark’s head. It couldn’t be…

He was barely five feet away when the gentleman who’d been sitting beside the woman and blocking her from view, stood up and left. Mark halted in his steps when the woman casually glanced his way. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he started to back up and nearly tripped against something.

“No, how’s that…”

Adrianne Palicki turned towards him and just… looked at him. Her face was flawless as always, her expression serene. Someone clearly inebriated bumped into Mark, distracting him for a second. Just a second, that was all it took. When he turned back towards the bar, the woman was no longer there.

Mark realized he was breathing pretty hard at this point. His chest heaved and he wiped the sweat from his brow, loosening his tie as he looked around for the woman. Maybe he was mistaken, maybe it was someone who just looked like Adrianne, and drank like Adrianne. Someone not dead, unlike Adrianne.

Mark spun around a couple times, scouring the club to try and locate the… apparition again. He walked to the bathrooms to see if maybe he could find her there, and couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved when he didn’t. Finally he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He was probably just coming down with something. Yes, that must be it.

He got into a cab and resisted the urge to turn back, for fear he’d find Adrianne standing there, staring at him with accusation in her eyes.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared, still in Adrianne’s form, stayed inside the women’s bathroom for a couple of minutes, trying to regain control of his own breaths. Seeing Mark after all this time was a sucker punch to the gut.

Nothing in his research so far offered any evidence he could use to incriminate the bastard. He was the best damn attorney in all of Midworld. Of course he’d be good at covering up his tracks. Which meant there was only one way – somehow he’d have to get Mark to incriminate _himself_. But what could make a hard-hearted, seasoned lawyer like Pellegrino confess?

After a long sleepless night, a short and weirdly candid conversation jumped to his mind. This was at a New Year’s party two years ago. He’d brought Adrianne and Mark brought Emily. The two women had quickly become fast friends. The four of them ended up chatting about ancient traditions and the beliefs that Adrianne had been brought up with.

“I mean, come on! Ghosts, angels and traveling back and forth in time?” Mark had scoffed loudly. “At least time travel has some basis in scientific fact, but the rest, really?”

“Now Mark, don’t be rude,” Emily had chided.

“Oh, it’s fine Emily,” Adie had replied cheerily. “I’ve heard it all before. But Mark, you can’t tell me you don’t find the notions at least a little bit fascinating? I mean, think of the possibilities!”

Jared had held his lovely fiancée by the waist and quietly observed her interaction with his very cynical boss.

“Frankly, my dear, _fascinated_ is not the term I’d use.”

“What would you, then?”

Mark had bitten his lip but in a rare moment of honesty, revealed something about himself that nobody else knew. “Um, terrified?”

“WHAT?”

“I’m actually… literally… very, very… terrified of Judeo-Christian mythology.”

“But why?”

“Creepy churchgoing trumps back in Connecticut, scarred me for life. I mean just the imagery they used to keep people in check – it’s all based in fear, not devotion or love! It’s meant to frighten and oppress you into compliance. Thou shalt do whatever, or else you’ll go to hell where the devil will torture you with hell-fires and pitchforks for eternity. For fuck’s sake! What were the ancients smoking when they dreamt up _that_ guy??”

They’d all laughed. But Jared could see Mark clearly meant it, the fear part that is. And that was exactly what he decided to use to rattle the human, and potentially get him to confess.

Every day that he spent in Cathedral, his old home, made him all the more miserable. He insisted (to himself) it had nothing to do with Jensen, or how Jensen had discarded him like an ordinary sexual conquest. And everything to do with the fact that this was the city that had betrayed him in every single way. The sooner he could prove his innocence, the sooner he would get his life back. And then maybe, just maybe, he could get Jensen back as well…

Once he was sure that Mark had left the club, Jared found a private spot and shifted into another woman, someone he’d crossed on the street earlier, someone nondescript and forgettable. Then he got into his equally forgettable car and drove back to the brothel, mentally planning his next move.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

****

 

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Chatoyant Court,  
Stormway, Manchester_ **

****

Jensen paced back and forth beside his limo outside the gates of the Court.

It was drizzling again, not too hard but enough to annoy him to no end. The wolf inside really, really hated getting slowly drenched to his bones, but Jensen needed to pace period.

He couldn’t believe what’d just happened. Not only did Matt _not_ feel the bond, he seemed to have no affinity towards Jensen whatsoever. How the hell could that be?

Nothing in Matt’s scent seemed out of the ordinary. And the vacuous expression on his face gave Jensen no clues to what the shifter might be thinking. That brief interaction outside Alaina’s office had left him more confused than anything.

“Hello there, stranger! Where have you been?” Matt had looked at him like he hadn’t seen him in months. Like they hadn’t just had the most intimate, soul-forging night together, less than a week ago.

And then there was the kiss. It felt so different, so… strange and almost disagreeable. As if the Loric bond wasn’t pleased they were kissing at all.

Could he have been mistaken about them bonding that night? Maybe it was just a strange surge of powerful emotions. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. He’d definitely dreamt of bonding with Jared many times before. The sexual experience had been out of this world. He’d never had a communion so intense with anyone else. Maybe he just mistook a really good fuck for a bonding?

Jensen sighed and leaned back against his car. If that were truly the case, it’d actually be a _good_ thing. He wouldn’t have to explain to his pack how or why he ended up with a shifter for a mate.

So then why was he so disappointed?

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

He decided he couldn’t wait until Friday.

The next morning, he trudged back from his yacht to the Court on foot, leaving his very conspicuous vehicle behind. He snuck into the mansion, past the assistants that guarded the front desk like hellcats, and made his way up to Matt’s suite.

His keen Lycan ears picked up two voices coming from inside, and he growled unhappily. But he gave the courtesan the privacy he deserved and the time he needed to get done with his current… appointment.

Sometime later the door opened and a tall handsome human stepped out, in a state of partial undress. Matt was right behind him, a white bedsheet draped around his naked form, clutching the two ends together against his chest. He lifted up to his toes and craned up to take his client’s lips with his own. Jensen looked away, feeling like an intruder instead of the rightful bond-mate.

“I’ll see you soon?” the human asked, voice full of eagerness.

“You sure will!”

After the man, Stuart whatever, walked away, Matt leaned against his door frame for a second, looking content, victorious even. As he made to close the door, a hand gripped it and blocked its way.

“Alpha!” Matt exclaimed in surprise. “What are you- ?”

“We need to talk.”

Jensen forced his way inside and closed the door behind himself. “You’re mad at me, right? That’s what this is?”

“Uh, mad about what?”

“I left you alone on the yacht. I wasn’t there when you woke up, and I’m so sorry for that, Matt.”

The courtesan frowned. His eyebrows kept getting more and more crooked, the longer Jensen spoke.

It hit Jensen like a lightning bolt.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about. Do you?”

The courtesan blinked repeatedly, and probably wondered if he’d made a mistake with a very important client that needed correcting. Which was exactly what he tried to do. His face melted into a soft, alluring expression, one he used to entice Jensen the first time they’d met months ago.

“Forgive me, I’m a little addle-brained this early in the morning. But I assure you, Alpha, I can never be upset with you. Come here, let me help you relax…”

He approached Jensen and just like he’d done with Stuart a minute ago, he rose to his toes and tried to kiss Jensen’s mouth. The bond protested again, so vehemently it made Jensen want to retch. But the gentleman that he was would never do that to a courtesan. Instead he held Matt by his shoulders and gently pushed him back.

“I’m sorry, Matt. This is not your fault. I must go.”

Before Matt could respond, the Lycan turned away and broke into a run, up the last flight of stairs until he stood in front of Alaina’s office again. The assistant, Liane, was just on her way out and intercepted Jensen.

“Alpha! Is there something I can help you w-…”

He didn’t let her finish, and barged through the swinging doors until he stood before the lady of the Court. Alaina jumped up to her feet, clearly shocked to see him back so soon.

“Alpha, what’s going on?”

Jensen’s face was flushed, his breaths erratic. His entire frame heaved with the effort of holding his wolf back in check. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Who?”

“Jared! It’s Jared! You sent Jared to the yacht, didn’t you? Please, Ms. Huffman! Please just say it’s true…”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

“Uh, Alpha, if you’d just take a seat for a moment...”

“And if you’d just stop lying to me! Tell me who he is, NOW!”

Alaina felt herself shaking. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of when she saw Jensen talking to Matt yesterday. And yet, there was something in the Alpha’s face she hadn’t expected to see.

No anger. Just desperation.

She sank back slowly into her chair. Her eyes found a vague spot on the table but her tongue struggled to find the words.

“My lady?”

“Forgive me, Alpha. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jensen sighed and took a seat as well. “Ms. Huffman, I know I’ve given you no reason to trust me. And I can see that you’re afraid for… _someone_. So for now, let _me_ talk and you listen. How about that?”

Alaina just stared at him.

Jensen licked his lips. “This… man, this shifter, whoever I met two weeks ago, he was… different and yet somehow more familiar than ever before. I don’t know why I ignored my instincts, maybe because I was afraid to be wrong again. Afraid to… get my hopes up and have them be cruelly dashed again. I didn’t know if I could bear it, especially since it took me so long to get over it the first time.”

“…”

“Anyway, after that meeting, I was so intrigued that I wanted to see him again. And strangely enough, my rut cycle came along two months sooner than expected. That’s why I called him to the yacht. It was as if my body had recognized its mate and created the circumstances for us to consummate our bond.”

Alaina hadn’t known that. An Alpha’s rut could either be profoundly pleasurable, or devastatingly destructive to the recipient. She grimaced, mad at herself for sending a wholly inexperienced Jared into that situation. Though it seemed to have ultimately worked out in his favor…

“We talked. Really talked for the first time that day. And every word of his reminded me of the Jared I’d once known. I just assumed Matt was taking on more of Jared’s personality traits. Again I refused to even consider any other possibility because it’d have been too good to be true! In retrospect, he did stay in Jared’s form much, much longer than I thought a shifter should be able to. He even asked me to call him Jared and still I… fuck, I’m such a fool!”

The Alpha stood up and started to pace. Alaina couldn’t _not_ notice the yearning in his heavy strides, desperate for Alaina to say the words he needed to hear, that much was clear.

“That night… we bonded. And you know, Ms. Huffman that Lycans mate for life. So you see, I couldn’t possibly hurt this _person_ , whoever he or she is. I couldn’t because I’d only be hurting myself.”

Alaina let go of the breath she was holding and looked up at Jensen, who now stood with his fists on his hips right beside her.

“That boy is like a son to me, Alpha. I helped his mother raise him till he was eight years old. Then we sent him to the best human school in the world, one that afforded him an opportunity to leave his… _misfortune_ behind and build a new life for himself. A good, safe life! He was so smart and… we only wished for him to live up to his potential, something he’d never have a chance to do in Stormway.”

“…”

“And right now, I fear I may have either given him a second chance at a life we once hoped he’d have, or I may have condemned him to certain death.”

“Did he kill his fiancée?”

“No! He was framed.”

If she expected skepticism, disbelief, distrust… she was absolutely mistaken. Nothing but relief and happiness and _love_ reflected in the Alpha’s eyes.

“Where is he?”

Alaina bit her lip and did something she hadn’t done in a very, very long time. She took a leap of faith, and decided to tell the Alpha everything.

It took a while.

She took Jensen up to the attic in the Huffman Manor where Jared had been staying for the last six months. The Alpha looked around the horrendous mess with an amused little grin. Alaina supposed he wouldn’t mind his mate’s sloppy disposition after all. His eyes stopped at an ancient script-book resting beside the narrow, unmade bed. She hadn’t seen that book before, but clearly Jensen had. He walked over, picked up the book, and pressed his lips to the gold-engraved stem in sheer reverence.

“He shouldn’t have gone alone,” he muttered, a little crossly.

“He wants to prove his innocence. I think mostly to _you_ , Alpha.”

The Alpha didn’t reply and didn’t need to. He practically radiated sadness and sympathy for his wronged mate.

“He hasn’t been in touch for three days,” she admitted with a sigh. “I’m getting worried.”

“Don’t be. I’ll keep him safe.”

The Lycan returned the book where he found it, then turned to leave the attic.

“You promise?”

Jensen turned towards Alaina and smirked. “On my life, _literally_.”

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 


	9. Chapter 9

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Kensington 12  
Cathedral, Manchester _ **

Next morning found Mark Pellegrino in a better mood, relatively speaking. He was on his usual jog around the park, his favorite tunes ringing in his ears as he ran. This early, just after dawn, there weren’t many people about. He did see the occasional health nut like himself every now and then.

It was on a deserted stretch that snaked through the woods where he saw her again. She just stood there quietly, wearing the same dress he saw her in last night. The dress that looked curiously like the one she would’ve married in.

Mark felt his heart racing again. Beads of sweat dotted and trickled down his temples. But this time instead of trying to chase the ghost, he turned tail and ran, all the way back to the safety of his house in Kensington. He didn’t stop to check if the ghost followed. He just ran, staying close to other humans, whoever he could spot on his way home.

He decided not to leave the house again that day, and called in sick.

At about six in the evening, the home security monitor buzzed, startling Mark to his feet. He relaxed once he realized it was just his wife, Emily, returning from work.

“Honey, I’m home!” She called from the foyer before appearing in the doorway a few minutes later.

She was dressed in her usual style – a form-fitting, dark green pantsuit, matched with red pumps. Her brown shoulder-length hair was swept up on one side of her face with a silver baroque-style pin.

“How are you feeling?”

“Meh…”

Mark had been sitting on the couch in their living room in the dark, in his most comfortable (but still extremely expensive) sweatpants, nursing a drink. He contemplated telling his beloved what had been bugging him, but changed his mind. Emily was his partner not just in life, but also in the firm. It was bad enough that he’d been decommissioned by this ridiculous phobia of his. There were too many active cases that needed attention, and he didn’t want her to be distracted too.

“How was _your_ day?”

“Uneventful, which is good, I suppose. Have you eaten yet?”

Mark chuckled. “My dear, are you actually offering to cook?”

Emily smirked back. “Maybe. But I need a bath first. Is there anything I can get you, honey? Another drink?”

“Sure, why not,” Mark replied tiredly. He wouldn’t mind another whiskey.

So she poured three fingers for him, then went upstairs to run a bath. She left the doors open so Mark could hear the water running. It soothed him as he sat there in the dark, quietly sipping his drink. Maybe, if he could stir up the stamina, he’d go and join her in a minute.

The home phone rang, but he felt too lethargic to get it. Instead he let it to go voice mail. After the beep, a familiar feminine voice echoed into the darkness.

_“Mark…”_

Mark felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

_“Mark, are you there?”_

This time he jumped up to his feet. His heart thundered, his hands trembled until he was forced to put his drink down. He wished he didn’t recognize the voice and its very distinctive north-eastern accent. But unfortunately he did.

_“Why Mark? Why did you do it?”_

“No, no, no, no, no...”

_“We were your friends, we adored you so much…”_

Mark hyperventilated and a strange pain started to shoot up his left arm.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

Something flipped in his mind and suddenly Mark was angry. He hit Connect on the phone and screamed right into it. “I demand you identify yourself! WHO IS THIS?”

Silence reined for a few, long moments.

 _“You know who it is,”_ the voice replied coldly.

Mark jumped and darted backwards, and promptly fell on his ass. He kept backing up in a full-blown state of panic. He was screaming, gasping, and a jumbled mix of words like “No” and “Not possible” and “You’re dead!” spilled from his mouth.

A pair of hands grabbed him from behind and he screamed even louder.

“Mark! It’s just me!”

Mark looked around to find Emily, kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“A-Adrianne!”

“What? What about Adrianne?”

“She c-called. Just… just now.”

Emily made a face that was sort of a cross between confusion and disbelief. “What have you been drinking?” She asked, picking up the glass on the side table and sniffing it.

“No, you have to believe me, Emily! She’s… everywhere. She’s haunting me!”

“Mark, please…”

“Just listen to the-the-the voice on the call…”

“Call? What call?”

“T-The phone call! Didn’t you hear?”

Emily frowned in utter confusion. “I didn’t hear anything. Honey, are you sure you don’t need to see a physician?”

“For fuck’s sake, just check the voice mail, will you?”

Emily narrowed her eyes, but then left him sitting on the hardwood floor and went to the phone panel. She pressed a few buttons then her hands flew up in the air, palms up.

“There are no voice mails on this damn thing.”

Mark stood up. “That’s not possible! Let me see…”

But there were indeed no voice mails on the damn thing. Mark felt that tingling up his arm again.

“It’s just your imagination, honey.”

“I’m not crazy, Emily,” Mark ground out angrily. “I’m telling you she called from beyond the grave!”

“Why!?!” Emily was quickly losing patience herself. She stood up and asked the question again, this time with emphatic hand gestures. “What does she want? Why would Adrianne call YOU of all people?”

Mark stood up too. “Exactly! That’s what I want to know – why is she calling ME when YOU’RE the one who bashed her fucking head in?!?!”

Emily froze. Her mouth fell open around a brand of shock that Mark had never seen on her face before.

“I’m sorry, love,” he rasped miserably. “I know we promised never to speak of it again. But…I swear I’m not making this up! These things I’ve been hearing and seeing, things that cannot be explained. I’m telling you –”

The security monitor buzzed again. A second later, another female voice reverberated through the house.

“Hey, honey, I’m home!” Emily Swallow called out from the foyer.

Mark blinked, not understanding for a second. And then he _did_ , and slowly turned back to face the… imposter in his home.

Emily – the fake Emily he’d been talking to – glared at him with cold daggers in her eyes.  

_“You fucking bastard.”_

 

 

**** -- ****

 

Jared couldn’t believe his ears.

Emily killed Adrianne! Emily Swallow.

 _Of course_ – she was ambidextrous. In her six-inch heels she was as tall as Jared and Mark on most days. And she was Adrianne’s friend. Jared was betrayed by his friend, and Adrianne was betrayed by hers!

Mark’s mouth, meanwhile, fell open around a wailing gasp. He walked backwards to get as far away as he could. Jared knew he had maybe one more minute before the real Emily walked in through those doors. And she wouldn’t be as rattled as Mark was right now. Beneath that soft, gracious feminine exterior hid a cold and ruthless killer, this much was now clear. But she’d come home too early. And now Jared’s only chance to extract a confession was about to slip out of his hands.

His digipad was in the back of his pants, rolled up into mini-transmitter mode, recording every word of this conversation and streaming it back to a second device in his room back at the brothel.

“Did Curtis Armstrong ask you to get me out of the way? Or was it your idea?”

Mark stumbled as the shifter closed in on him. “You… you’re Jared? But h-how…”

Jared realized he’d made a tactical error but it was too late to do anything about it. Emily walked in right then, and Jared was out of time. She flicked on the lights, took one look at ‘herself’ and froze, but only for a second.

“SHIFTER!” She screamed, and it seemed to snap Mark back into lucidity. Next thing Jared knew, his ex-boss was running towards a cabinet nearby and pulling a revolver out of it.

Jared spun around and ran to the nearest window, his only route of escape now that Emily was blocking the door. He was two feet away when the first shot fired. Jared ducked and the bullet whizzed past his head.

“Security! Surround the house now!” Emily was screaming into a phone.

The second bullet missed him too, and went through the window shattering the glass so Jared didn’t have to do it. He climbed through, scratching himself in places. And before he could re-think his strategy to jump out of a second-story window, the gun fired again. This time the bullet hit him in the right thigh. Jared was propelled forward, right through the window. He fell thirty feet and landed painfully on the perfectly mowed lawns behind Mark’s house.

Still in Emily’s form, Jared grunted but couldn’t stop to indulge the pain because Mark was leaning out of the window, his gun still in hand. To his left, the main door flew open and three bodyguards in black suits and long trench coats came out with more guns ready to fire.

Jared ran as fast as his injured leg could carry him. He lost his shoes (fucking kitten heels) and ran barefoot over the shards of glass, cutting himself even more. He turned east towards his car but two of the gunmen were in his way, so was forced to go west on foot. It was late on a weeknight and not many people were out on the streets. Even if they had been, the bodyguards had orders to shoot to kill. And they wouldn’t have hesitated either way.

Bullets flew past him and Jared ran harder. If he could just get to the busiest part of town, where the brothel was, he could lose himself in the crowd. Where were all the forty million people of Manchester when you needed them? Not in prissy, upper class Kensington, obviously.

The bleeding wouldn’t stop. Jared knew he was leaving a bright red trail for his would-be assassins to follow. He stopped and hid behind a dumpster in a dark alley, then he un-shifted, hoping the process would help him heal up. Unfortunately the bullet was still embedded deep in his thigh, so the wound could not heal over unless it was taken out.

Jared, now in Jared’s form, looked back and forth between the entrance and exit to the alley. Both were now blocked by the gunmen.

“Where is she?” A male voice called from a distance.

Another responded promptly, “Couldn’t have gotten far with that gunshot wound. Check over there!”

Jared bit his lip against the agony. Even if he didn’t look like Emily anymore, the woman’s pantsuit and the bullet hole in his thigh would quickly give him away. He crouched between the back of the dumpster and the wall, wishing he’d had the forethought to carry a weapon of some sort. As it happened, the only thing he had to defend himself with was a sliver of glass from the window he’d jumped out of. That would just have to do.

“Is it really a she?”

“Who fucking cares? We have our orders, just kill it!”

The men crept near and Jared braced himself. This was it. This was how it all ended.

At least Mark’s confession was captured in his digipad back in the brothel. Maybe someone would discover it and take it to the police. Maybe the evidence would find its way into the hands of Detective Berry. And maybe, just maybe, after he was long dead and gone, Jensen would know – and believe – that Jared had been innocent all along.

He squinted hard against the torrent building behind his eyes, and waited for the inevitable.

His world began to quake then, literally. The ground beneath his feet shook as if in an earthquake. It took him a second to realize the tremors emanated not from below but _above_ – on top of the dumpster he hid behind, to be more accurate.

A gigantic wolf had just come flying out of nowhere and landed on all fours on top of the metal structure, crushing it nearly flat under its weight.

Jared’s eyes went wide as he craned to look up at the magnificent beast. It looked somewhat familiar, despite the dark. A wolf of this unusual size could only mean one thing…

The wolf growled, the sound echoing dangerously through the close quarters of the alley. It jumped off the dumpster and landed on the street in front of Jared, shielding him from view of the gunmen. For a second, the wolf turned its head… _his_ head… to look right at the injured shifter. Jared would recognize those magnetic sea-green eyes anywhere.

The gunmen recovered from their initial shock and shouted at each other to regroup and attack.  Then they started shooting again.

“No!!!” Jared screamed, his heart racing with fear and panic at the prospect of those bullets hitting his Alpha… his…Jensen.

 _“Stay behind me!”_ The Alpha growled. It took Jared a second to realize the words he just heard came not from the wolf’s mouth but from inside his own head.

The wolf moved faster than anyone could keep up with. One moment, he was flying through the air to land a heavy paw on a gunman’s chest, crushing his rib cage. In the next moment, he spun around and attacked the second gunman, holding him down flat on the ground and ripping his throat out until he stopped shooting his semi-automatic.

The third bodyguard watched all this unfold from a distance, but stayed frozen in fear and didn’t intervene. When the wolf spun around and started to prowl towards him, the man retreated as fast as humanly possible. Probably decided the paycheck wasn’t worth it after all.

Jared fell back against the dumpster, suddenly realizing how much blood he’d lost. His consciousness was fading, his breaths were slowing down. But his Alpha was okay, as far as he could see.

_“Open your eyes, stay awake, Jared! Stay with me, please…”_

Through rapidly dimming eyes, Jared watched as the wolf diminished in size and transformed into a humanoid form. A tall, beautiful, naked man rose to his feet with his back to the shifter. For a second, the man moved out of sight to retrieve something from the ground. When he stood up straight again, he was wearing the dead bodyguard’s trench coat. He cinched the ends together with a belt before turning to face Jared.

“Jensen,” Jared whispered, with a smile.

The Lycan crouched beside the shifter, getting as close as he possibly could without hurting Jared. “Stay with me Jared, hold on, okay?”

“Is that really you?”

“Shh, it’s me. You’re all right, you’re okay…”

The pain was overwhelming and the adrenaline that Jared had been running on practically all week was fading away. He didn’t _feel_ okay, but he didn’t think that was such a big deal anymore. “You came for me…”

“Misha!” Jensen was screaming into a phone, probably also retrieved from a dead man.

But Jared couldn’t keep his eyes or ears open long enough for the rest. This could well be the happiest day of his life, even if it was his last.

 

 

 **** -- ** -- ** -- ****  
  


 

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Primrose Hills,  
Cathedral, Manchester _ **

 

Misha came out of the kitchen with two mugs of steaming coffee in both hands. He was dressed casually for a change – blue jeans and a white cardigan hanging open over a raggedy black t-shirt. His hair was tousled like he’d just gotten out of bed, and he was barefoot.

He looked around the living room only to find it empty. He went to the first bedroom on the right and pushed the door open with his hip. The only person in there was the one in bed, still unconscious to the world. Misha quietly stepped back out and went to the terrace instead. That’s where he found his Lycan friend, leaning heavily against the rails.

“Sleep okay?” Misha asked, already knowing the answer.

Jensen smiled gratefully at the sight and smell of coffee. “Thanks, my friend,” he whispered before taking a sip of the hot drink.

“Didn’t catch a wink, did you?”

Jensen just shrugged.

He was wearing some of Misha’s clothes, having ripped his own when he transformed last night in a hurry. He wore a crumpled white shirt (no it was not crumpled when Misha gave it to him last night) with sleeves folded up to his elbows. And baggy jeans that ended two inches too soon above his ankles. He stood barefoot too. Misha smiled recalling how the Alpha-apparent of Albion had balked at the sight of his big feet in a pair of neon flip-flops.

Jensen wore a five o’clock shadow better than most humans did, Misha mused. And despite the fact that he clearly hadn’t rested all night, Jensen looked – for all intents and purposes – happier than Misha had ever seen him before.

“Thank you, again, for…”

“Oh, stop it. You know that’s not needed with me.”

“We could have stayed at the hotel but if the press is really parked out there waiting for me, then…”

“Someone on the staff spilled about your permanent penthouse suite there. It was the right choice to come here. Have you seen the news yet?”

Jensen frowned and shook his head. They headed inside and Misha voice-commanded the plasma to tune to MNN.

> _Authorities have yet to disclose the identity of the dead body found in an alley in the posh neighborhood of Kensington last night…_

 

Misha turned to Jensen. “Sounds like the second man survived.”

“I stepped on his rib cage, so he’s definitely in the hospital. It’s so unjust that a mercenary for hire would get treatment in your healing centers, but Jared can’t because he’s shifter.”

“Look, even if we somehow managed to keep his identity hidden, surgeons are required to report any shifters they treat to local authorities. It’s the law.”

Jensen just huffed and concentrated on his coffee instead.

> _All signs seem to indicate a vicious animal attack. And considering there are no animals in Manchester, the implication is plain as day…_

 

“A Loric transformation inside human territory… you know what that means, don’t you?”

“Lectures from my fathers?”

“Jensen, you broke the law! There will be consequences if they manage to ID you.”

The Alpha winced. “I know, I know. Even if the second gunman can’t talk, the third one who ran away sure can. Why do you think he hasn’t surfaced yet?”

“He probably ran back to Pellegrino, who is holding on to the information in case he needs it as leverage. Which could only mean one thing…”

Jensen looked his lawyer in the eye. “Jared found something last night.”

“Evidence against Pellegrino, or evidence of his own innocence?”

“Either, both, guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”

“I wonder what Jared would do if he knew that using said evidence against Mark could actually get _you_ into trouble with the law.”

Jensen turned to Misha with muted anger on his face. “I know your heart’s in the right place, my friend, so I will pretend you did not just say that. My mate just went to hell and back trying to prove his innocence. I will not let you manipulate him into giving that up for me.”

Misha lowered his eyes, not surprised by the Alpha’s answer. He pondered silently how to keep his friend safe in the days to come, and looked up only when Jensen put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry so much, Misha. We’ll be fine.”

They turned back to the plasma and for the next few minutes, focused on a panel discussion about the Mers protesting at the pier.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

While Jensen kept himself busy following the news, Misha refilled his coffee and mentally reviewed events of the night before. Starting with the cryptic phone call he’d received from Jensen at around eight PM.

 _“Misha, can you find out where Mark Pellegrino lives?”_ Jensen had said, not stopping to say hello, which was how he started all his conversations so Misha had pretty much come to expect that.

What he did _not_ expect to see was the background behind Jensen in the hologram. It looked like he was in Cathedral… the Cast Iron district to be specific. What the hell was the Alpha doing there?

“What? Why? Wh-where are you calling from?”

_“Can’t you see? By the way, can you come pick me up?”_

“Sure, stay put. Uh actually, find someplace crowded.”

Twenty minutes later, Misha drove his BMWII through the seediest part of the city. He prayed to the three divine entities his mother was constantly on about, that he not get mugged before he reached Jensen. The Alpha he wasn’t worried about so much. But the scandal it’d cause if a Loric was ever caught in this part of town…

The High Alpha would have his head.

“Get in quickly,” he grumbled soon after pulling up, and Jensen quickly complied.

“Did you find the address?”

“I have it. What are we doing exactly?”

“Finding Jared.”

“Jared – you mean Matt, your courtesan? He’s in the capital?”

Jensen turned and leaned closer to his friend. There was a strange film of energy brimming in his eyes… they were both brighter and more ferocious at the same time.

“No, Misha. It is Jared! He’s alive!”

Misha took one long look at his friend before looking back up at the road ahead.

“For crying out loud,” he muttered softly, “the drama with this kid doesn’t end, does it?”

For the rest of the ride towards Kensington 12, Jensen filled Misha in on everything he’d found out from Alaina that morning.

“She gave me an address to this brothel run by one of her acquaintances. It’s like a refuge for shifters in the city. Jared has a room up there, his stuff is still there but I couldn’t find him. And I would have waited except…”

“What?”

Jensen couldn’t hide his anxiety anymore. “Something’s up with him, Misha. I can feel him trembling, restless and scared through the bond. The longer I stay in Cathedral, the stronger the feeling gets. I couldn’t just sit on my hands and do nothing. So I figured…”

“Start with the place he’s most likely to go first?”

“Exactly.”

Another few minutes flew by in silence. They were just navigating the corner around Pellegrino’s mansion when the Alpha rolled the windows down, lifted his nose up in the air and sniffed.

“He’s close. Slow down, switch your headlights off. I think he’s got something at play, wouldn’t want us to break his cover by mistake.”

Misha nodded and did as asked. They were waiting quietly a few meters away, when they heard the first gunshot ring in the dead of the night.

“Jensen, wait!”

A visual of his Alpha’s mugshot on the nightly news went through Misha’s head. But before he could do anything, Jensen shot out of the car and sprinted at superhuman speed towards the building. He was a second too late though. By the time he got there Jared, as Emily, had already jumped out the window and was limping his (her) way away from the gunmen chasing him (her.)

When Misha arrived at the scene, he found the Alpha wearing a long black trench coat, crouching in a corner of the alley with a slim, lanky figure unconscious and bleeding profusely in his arms. It was Jared. The Alpha gathered the shifter into his arms effortlessly and got into the backseat of Misha’s car, laying the long form across his lap, head lolling listlessly into Jensen’s chest.

“We need to get the bullet out of his thigh now, or he’ll bleed out before he gets a chance to heal.”

“Uh, let me check the glove compartment...” that was all Misha had to offer. As it turned out, it was enough.

He could still hear Jared’s pained whimpers echoing through his car as Jensen held his mate down and dug the bullet out of his flesh with nothing but brute force and a pair of stainless steel eyebrow tweezers.

“I will never make fun of your grooming habits ever again, my friend.” The Alpha had promised, but Misha doubted he’d actually keep it.

Back at his apartment in Primrose Hills, Misha watched as his Lycan friend suddenly sat up straighter, his ears cocked. Then he turned away from the plasma and towards Misha.

“What’s wrong?” the lawyer asked.

Jensen didn’t reply. He just rose gracefully to his bare feet and strode into the bedroom on the right.

 _Ah_. Misha sipped his coffee. Jared must be awake.

He gave the men their privacy and turned to the news instead. Things were finally clicking into place. Jared being framed, the agreement changed in his absence, and shipped to Alan Ackles before Jensen could find out, which led to the approval of the lustrum extraction project last month… incidents all connected by one single thread – human greed. Humans betrayed each other on a regular basis. It wouldn’t be unimaginable that they’d deceive the Lorics too. Even ones as benevolent as the Lycans of Albion. Besides, a few kilos of that shiny expensive stuff could go a long way to assuaging any guilt they might feel, if at all.

MNN was airing archived footage from six months ago when the treaty was signed. Funnily enough, Mark Pellegrino was on TV right now, being lauded as a Mancunian hero. Misha sighed. Days like these, he was downright ashamed to be human.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

****

 

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Kensington 12,  
Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Emily paced back and forth in her living room, trying to get in touch with someone in Xiyang.

“It’s no use,” her husband whispered from where he sat on the floor, nursing his latest drink. They’d both lost count by now.

“You’re not helping, Mark!” Emily hissed at him angrily and hit re-dial again.

“Do you really think it was Jared?”

Emily glared at him for apparently being daft. “He said so himself, didn’t he?”

“Maybe, I-I don’t know if I heard him right. But how? How could he be a-alive?”

“Did anyone ever see his body? My guess is that Tapping and her people doctored the story to say he was killed while attempting to escape. Instead of admitting that he was a shifter, and he _did_ escape.”

“Damn those trumps and their alternative facts,” Mark grunted, drunk and miserable. But Emily had no sympathy for him.

“Forget that, at least they’re our kind! You – you recruited a _mutt_ to our firm. You had me socializing with him for fuck’s sake. For all you know, Adrianne was one too! God, I feel so dirty…”

“I didn’t know! And he was so good and so… cool to hang out with… who could’ve guessed?”

“Well, at least I don’t feel so bad for what happened anymore.”

“There’s that.”

Suddenly the line Emily had been trying to connect, connected. _“This is Curtis.”_

Emily nearly dropped the phone. “Mr. Armstrong! It’s Emily Swallow, sir. We-we have a serious problem.”

There was no response on the other side, so Emily just carried on.

“Sir, Jared Padalecki is alive. And he knows about you and your connection to the firm.”

“...”

“Sir, are you there?”

_“Never call this number again.”_

The line disconnected, leaving Emily with a horrified expression on her face.

“That asshole! He’s only thinking of himself! W-What did he think I was trying to entrap him or something?”

Mark didn’t look surprised at all. “Pack a bag. It’s time to head west.”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Thirty-three kilometers away, in the first Precinct, Detective Lisa Berry took off her earpiece and calmly placed it back beside her technician’s keyboard.

She looked at him and subtly nodded. “Good work. We may not have Curtis yet, but we have enough for the other two.”

She straightened up to her full height of five-ten, and smiled at the prospect of actually getting some well-deserved sleep tonight.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 


	10. Chapter 10

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Primrose Hills  
Cathedral, Manchester _ **

The next morning, Jared woke in Misha’s bed completely healed. But the regeneration process had taken a toll, leaving him more exhausted than usual.

He had vague recollections of what happened the night before, but he couldn’t be sure how much of it was real and how much was just wishful thinking, or hallucinations induced by massive blood loss. He remembered the big black wolf saving him from Pellegrino’s assassins. He remembered said wolf transforming into what he thought was the most beautiful humanoid form that’d ever existed in this world.

“Jensen,” he whispered ever so quietly to himself, not realizing that a supernatural pair of ears just outside his door heard him loud and clear.

Now that lucidity was returning slowly, Jared could also recall the amateur surgery Jensen had to perform in Misha’s swanky car. Jared remembered the pain, the blood everywhere, and the expression on Misha’s face, probably calculating how much it was going to cost him to get his car in pristine condition again.

So this must be Misha’s place. It was trendy, but homely and too well lived-in to be a hotel. Jared didn’t have to wonder long. A few moments after he stirred awake, there was a soft knock on the door. And a second later, Jensen popped his head in.

“May I come in?”

Jared’s eyes went wide and he promptly sat up in bed. His mouth opened, and he could feel his lips move but he wasn’t sure any actual words came out.

“How are you feeling?”

Jensen looked so deeply concerned. It made Jared look down at himself to confirm exactly whose face he was wearing right then. Under the bed covers, he was naked save for his boxer briefs. Someone had thankfully ridden him of Emily Swallow’s atrociously restricting pantsuit. Most likely Jensen. And after the night they had on the yacht, it really shouldn’t be a big deal…

“You’re blushing,” Jensen observed, smiling but not unkindly. Jared looked away, cheeks burning brighter at the Alpha’s words.

“Hey, it’s all right, Jared. You’re okay, aren’t you?”

Jared looked up at him then. The Alpha had called him Jared. He _knew_. All his deceptions and mirages had finally met their end.

“A-Alpha, I… I can explain...”

Jensen shook his head and exhaled deeply. Then he pulled Jared into his arms and settled into the bed beside him. “There is no need. Alaina told me everything. I know and understand everything now.”

He stroked Jared’s face and hair comfortingly, and shushed him when Jared couldn’t help the tears from welling in his eyes. “So you forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For deceiving you?”

Jensen’s eyes softened. “I forgive you for not trusting me enough to come to me sooner.”

Jared sighed, and his eyes fell to the Alpha’s lips. That seemed to be indication enough for the Alpha. Jensen closed the gap and took Jared’s mouth with his own. They kissed each other’s fears and doubts away, pressed promises and reassurances into each other’s skin. Jared buried his face in the crook of Jensen’s neck and just lay there, listless and numb, too content to get up or say or do anything else.

“There is still so much I need to tell you…” he whispered, after a while.

“Me too,” Jensen replied, softly caressing the younger man’s earlobe between his thumb and index finger. “But it can wait, we have all the time in the world.”

Jared swallowed hard before looking up into the Lycan’s eyes. “Actually, we may not have a lot of time, if I am to prove my innocence.”

“What do you need?”

“The digipad in my… uh, there’s this room I was staying at. I transmitted my conversation with Mark last night to it, I couldn’t risk putting it anywhere online because he’s got this huge team of cyber engineers crawling through everything and systematically deleting…”

“Is that what you need?” Jensen interrupted him while pointing to a table just beyond Jared’s line of sight.

All his stuff – his little brown duffel bag, his three digipads, car keys – they were all sitting here safe and sound.

“Jared, what did you find?”

Jared closed his eyes to keep a torrent of angry tears at bay. “Both Mark and his wife Emily were in on it together.”

He told Jensen everything he’d discovered, and watched as Jensen’s face morphed from shock to outrage of his own.

“You were also mumbling deliriously about wanting to reach a detective Lisa Berry. Is she someone you trust?”

“I… yes, yes I do.”

“Then Misha will find her. And we’ll make sure she has all this evidence to prove you innocent.”

Jared looked into Jensen’s eyes and squinted. All this was too good to be true. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

Jensen’s face melted into an expression of mirth.  “I don’t know, do you usually dream about ruggedly handsome Lycans slipping into your bedroom, and doing things to make you moan in your sleep?”

As he said it, Jensen let one of his hands wander down Jared’s supine body until it was at his groin, softly grazing his fingers over his cotton-covered genitals. Jared moaned all right, astounded as to how easily Jensen could distract him from his angst. He looked down at himself, at the little mound in his briefs growing steadily.

“Alpha, please, now is not the time to… ah! Oh- Okay then, don’t stop, don’t stop…”

Jensen smirked, and continued to fondle him gently. He rolled the tightening balls through the fabric while occasionally sliding his hand up to rub Jared’s belly. And really that was all it took. A couple of squeezes later, Jared closed his eyes and arched his back until he creamed the insides of his underwear. He gasped in wonder and lightheadedness, his body feeling utterly relaxed like putty in the Alpha’s hands.

“Oh my continents, why, why do you affect me so?”

Jensen smiled at him before kissing his nose and forehead gently. He stayed quiet for a while, as if gathering his thoughts. One hand came back up to hold Jared under one of his armpits, pressing the youth closer to himself.

“Jared, there is something I…I need to tell you…”

But Jensen didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he tilted his head towards the door, as if reacting to something in the distance.

“What is it?”

“We’re about to have company.”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared got out of bed and pulled some clothes on – his trusty Oxbridge sweatshirt and an old pair of jeans faded to white. He limped out of the bedroom slowly behind Jensen and into the living room.

Misha stood up and looked at them in question. But before he could ask anything, the doorbell rang. The security monitor announced there was a Detective Lisa Berry and her team, demanding entrance.

Jensen turned to Misha, “That was fast. You called her?”

Misha shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”

Moments later, Detective Berry and two sergeants of the first precinct were standing in Misha’s hallway, looking at the shifter who stood cowering behind the Lycan Alpha.

“Mr. Padalecki, I presume?”

Jensen kept a strong grip on Jared’s left hand, which gave him the courage to come out from behind his savior. “Yes, Detective Berry. I-I am willing to surrender to –”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Padalecki. We’ve had the Pellegrino house under surveillance for the past few days. I took you up on your suggestion and it panned out.”

She smiled up at him, and Jared realized she _knew_ it was him she’d had coffee with the other day. He lowered his eyes, feeling sheepish for deceiving yet another good person in his life. No wonder humans and Lorics were so united in their hatred of the shifter community.

“Hey,” Jensen tugged at his hand, bringing his spiraling thoughts back into focus. For which Jared was immensely grateful. There would be plenty time for self-derision later. Right now, Detective Berry looked like she had something else to say.

“Your entire conversation with the couple last night, along with their conversation with each other gives us more than enough evidence of your innocence, Mr. Padalecki. As of this morning, all charges against you stand dismissed. Judge Whitfield sends his condolences for your loss, and expresses regret on behalf of the territory of Manchester for the miscarriage of justice in your case.”

Jared exhaled deeply, unable to form a coherent response to the words he was hearing, the words he’d been dying to hear for so long. All he could do was lean against his Alpha, let _him_ bear his weight until Jared could find his legs again.

“Do you have Pellegrino in custody, then?” Misha inquired.

“We sure do, him and his wife, Emily Swallow for the murder of Adrianne Palicki. They tried to make a run for it last night, but didn’t get very far.” Lisa explained, then looked back up at Jared.

“Sentencing is scheduled for this evening at seven PM. You’re not required to bear witness, we have enough to send them away for good. However I must warn you, if you’re there, and your... racial identity is brought up, then you may be asked by the judge to respond. But if you sit it out, the prosecutor can dismiss all such claims as irrelevant to the homicide of Adrianne Palicki.”

Jared felt his hand being squeezed again.

“I… I guess I’ll sit it out.”

He felt a mild tingle of something… uncomfortable, seep in through his skin that was in direct contact with the Lycan. If he had to name it in a hurry he would call it – disappointment.

Jensen turned to Berry again. “What about Curtis Armstrong?”

“That’s going to be a longer battle I’m afraid, Mr. Ackles.”

“It’s Alpha Ackles,” Misha interrupted softly, but everyone ignored him.

Lisa continued, “The man was very careful not to incriminate himself. We still can’t prove he had anything to do with the murder or the conspiracy to frame and discredit Jared. Pellegrino isn’t saying anything either.”

“I see,” Jensen bit his lip. “So that means we still can’t make a case to stop the drilling in the Bay. Even though you know for a fact that what they’re doing is unethical?”

The detective was undeterred, and she did not mince her words. “Unethical yes, but illegal? We cannot prove that yet.”

Jensen was clearly not happy to hear that, and it was Jared’s turn to squeeze his hand in return. As far as he was concerned, this was a step in the right direction. And now that he was starting to believe all this was actually happening and not just in his head, Jared felt more optimistic than ever.

“I also have some bad news for you, gentlemen. And before I share it, let me inform you that the entire police force of Cathedral is currently on high alert and surrounding the building as we speak.”

Misha and Jensen frowned, and Jared’s heart began to race.

“What’s going on?” Jensen was the one to ask, probably because he had a pretty good idea of what it was already, and was dealing with it better than Misha was.

“We have a warrant for you, Alpha Ackles,” Berry replied. “Best you come with us quietly. This is going to be bad enough as it is.”

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Ackles Limo, on the road  
Cathedral, Manchester _ **

 

On their way back from the 1st precinct, Misha flicked on the plasma next to his seat. It automatically went to the news channel.

 

> _The Adrianne Palicki homicide case has reached its dramatic conclusion with the sentencing of its two primary perpetrators – Mark Pellegrino and Emily Swallow. The fall from grace for this hitherto power couple is the single most dramatic scandal to hit Cathedral society in two decades. Swallow was expected to be sentenced to death, which was the same verdict passed on Jared Padalecki, the attorney who’d been_ framed _for the murder of Miss Palicki seven months ago. But it seems the couple has managed to negotiate a more lenient sentence of life in prison without parole for both husband and wife, in exchange for information on certain persons of interest. No information on specifically who these persons are has been shared…_

 

Justice moved fast in the post-glacial human world, much, much faster than it used to in prehistoric times. That’s what Misha’s law professor at Oxbridge used to say. Despite that, it took him a whole day to get his friend out of Capital PD’s detention center. And no one felt more acutely aware of, or guiltier, for that fact than Misha himself.

Nothing Jensen said could appease his conscience. And honestly he’d have gotten over it sooner if it weren’t for the High Alpha of Albion sitting across him in the limo, glaring daggers into the center of Misha’s forehead, right between his baby blues.

“Knock it off, Dad,” Jensen chided but his three-hundred year old step-father continued to make Misha uncomfortable with his eyes.

“No Lycan has spent twelve hours in a human lock-up, Jensen. You have the incredibly dubious honor of being the first.”

“Well, it’s not Misha’s fault.”

“I disagree.”

Alan Ackles was a distinguished being who had the mannerisms of a highly polished Anglican gentleman, the kind one read about in prehistoric literature. But there was no mistaking the steel in his eyes reminding people that he was first and foremost a Lycan. And a High Alpha at that, one who could rip your head off without breaking a sweat.

Whatever happened to the ‘best damn human attorney at law this side of the continent’?

“If your foolish friend hadn’t dawdled before calling me, you wouldn’t have spent any time in there at all.”

Before Misha could stutter his way through a vapid explanation, Jensen jumped to his defense. “You were busy with the Tibetans! _I_ told him not to involve you unless absolutely necessary. Apparently diplomatic immunity only applies to you and not your step-son, how were we to know that?”

“You _would_ have known that, if you had _called_.”

Jensen glared back in silence, as did Alan. Father and son were more alike than they cared to admit.

As the limo made its way towards the Hilton on King Street, they continued to stare each other down, while Misha just slumped down further in his seat. He knew all this needless criticism of his competence was in lieu of the actual argument that the duo hadn’t even begun to have yet. The one about the elephant in the room, or the shifter in their hotel suite – to be more precise.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

At the hotel, they were whisked through VVIP gates to avoid the media frenzy outside, and straight up to the Ackles penthouse. The elevator ride was as tense as the drive. So tense that Misha wished they’d just get the claws and fangs out and hash it out already.

The moment Jensen came through the door, Jared came flying at him.

“Thank goodness,” he rasped and kissed the Alpha’s face everywhere he could reach, over and over again. He pulled back for a moment to look into Jensen’s eyes, as if to ask permission. The Alpha simply smirked and dove right in, capturing Jared’s mouth with his own.

What a contrast the two men were… Jensen was in his formal, luxuriously fashionable, all black three-piece suit. His hair was slicked back and perfectly in place, and his black shoes shined as bright as his own fur in wolf form. Jared, on the other hand, wore a plain white t-shirt with faded gold etchings, his usual pair of old jeans that used to be blue once, and a thin denim jacket that’d never seen better days at all. His hair was wild and long and kept falling into his eyes so he had to keep jerking them back. And he, for one, had no problem pulling off Misha’s neon flip-flops. The human was quite impressed.

They stayed entwined around each other for what felt like ages. Until the High Alpha cleared his throat, startling them away from each other. At least Jared _tried_ , to pull away that is. It seemed to take some significant effort on his part to break Jensen’s hold around his waist.

This was the first time Jared was meeting the parent.

“A-Alpha,” he bowed deferentially, acutely conscious that Alan’s son was still hovering just behind him, refusing to let go of his hand.

Alan stood stoic with his hands clasped behind him, much like Jensen often stood when he was trying to maintain a cold distance. With a swift flick of his champagne eyes, Alan sized the shifter up from head to toe.

“You’ve had a tough few months, haven’t you, Mr. Padalecki?”

Jared’s chest heaved once, then he simply nodded.

“Well, it looks like your ordeal has finally come to an end.”

“Y-Yes, sir, thanks to your son and… and Mr. Collins.”

“And you put the real killers behind bars too. You have your revenge at last.”

Jared swallowed hard and looked at Jensen, who nodded at him encouragingly. “Revenge was not the point, sir.”

“What then?”

“Justice for Adrianne. And a chance to maybe, find a little bit of happiness again.”

Alan narrowed his eyes at Jared and softly smiled. “Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate happiness.”

Misha frowned, not sure why Alan was quoting the Count of Monte Cristo to the mutt who’d most definitely have no idea what he was on about…

“Couldn’t agree more, sir. It is necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”

Misha’s mouth fell open, absolutely gobsmacked. And he wasn’t the only one. The High Alpha blinked, trying his best to hide his astonishment. And Jensen just smirked ever so proudly, hearing Jared quote his favorite book right back to the High Alpha.

Alan recovered quickly enough, but didn’t let up. “So what are your plans now?”

It was an innocent enough question. But it sent Jensen’s hackles rising and Misha braced himself for the impending showdown. “Dad, maybe we should stop dancing around the issue and talk it out. I already told you, Jared –”

“Has a long-standing record of lies and deception. No offence, Mr. Padalecki. But you’re still a lawyer. I’m sure you don’t mind me stating the facts plainly.”

Jared trembled visibly, but continued to hold the High Alpha’s gaze with his own. If Misha felt proud, he could only imagine how Jensen felt.

 “And I think I’m fully in my rights to demand some honest answers for a change.”

Jensen took a step forward to stand between Jared and his father, partially shielding his mate behind himself. “Actually, you have _no_ right to demand anything here, Dad.”

Alan looked taken aback. “I see, so it’s starting already. This is why we do not bring outsiders into the pack, Jensen. This is how families get pulled apart.”

But before Jensen could respond, Jared stepped out from behind him. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.”

Jared turned to Jensen, his voice steadier than probably anyone in the room expected it to be.  “Jensen, your father is right. I-I don’t want to alienate you from your pack. Besides, h-how will you introduce me to your family – hey guys, this is my shifter boyfriend, I found him in a shifter whorehouse?”

“Jared, don’t say that…”

Jensen tried to pull Jared back into his arms but the younger one stepped away. He kept his eyes lowered, keenly aware of the audience he had. “I went away to school as a kid, thinking there’d always be time to spend with my momma later. But there wasn’t, and not a day goes by when I don’t regret leaving her behind.”

He looked up into Jensen’s eyes. “I won’t let you make that mistake. We can’t do this. I have to go.”

With that, Jared started to walk back to the bedroom next door, probably to gather his stuff before making his dramatic exit.

“Actually, you _can’t_ go.” Jensen called out after him.

“You can’t stop me!” Jared threw back, and kept walking.

The door to the bedroom slammed shut behind him, leaving father and son (and Misha) standing in quiet shock, staring at said door. It probably took a lot of pride-swallowing on Jensen’s part to turn around, and face his father.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Alan asked, with a completely straight face.

Jensen bit his lip and shook his head sheepishly.

This would probably be the first and last time Misha would see the High Alpha roll his eyes. He wished he’d had a camera to record the moment for posterity.

“Go,” Alan said softly, waving Jensen away. This time the son immediately complied. Which had the unfortunate side effect of leaving Misha alone with Alan in the living room.

He fidgeted, looked around lost, and struggled to come up with something to say.

“So, did you hear the one about a Lycan, a human and a shifter walking into a bar…?” he tried, he really did.

Alan glared at him for a second, then turned to head to the library at the other end of the penthouse.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Alan Ackles was proud of his children, no doubt. But this was not a typical parenting situation. In fact he’d stake his reputation to go so far as to say – this particular situation had never, ever happened to anyone before.

His son, heir apparent to the Ackles legacy, had gone ahead and bonded with a _shifter_. And he’d brought the tenuous peace between the people of Manchester and Albion to the brink of collapse as a consequence. Like the proverbial butterflies, flapping their little wings to bring about a tornado that would ultimately destroy everything in its path.

Alan’s job now was to minimize the amount of destruction, but also to keep his precious little butterflies safe. Because if the two were bonded, as they clearly were – Alan could see it glittering like a chain of sapphires linking them together – then he had no choice but to protect Jared too.

Lycans had superhuman hearing senses. But after all his years of training and protecting Midworld, Alan had also developed _superlycan_ senses. It could be a gift or a curse, depending on the situation. Like right now, he could unfortunately hear every word that was being said between his son and his mate three doors away.

 

_“I am WHAT to you?”_

_“Uh, it’s called being mated, o-or bonded, it’s…”_

_“I know what a bond is! But how- when- why? HOW?”_

 

Alan sighed and tried not to eavesdrop, especially when his son launched into a rather graphic description of their sexual encounter aboard the Nyctimus. Alan had suspected, when he gifted Jensen that yacht, that it would be repurposed from being a vessel for transport to a vessel for other, extracurricular, activities. He couldn’t say he disapproved though. Jensen had lived a pretty lonely, largely celibate life for many decades. And frankly Hilarie and Alan had started to worry.

_“Of course I love you, Jensen.”_

_“You do? Really?”_

_“How could you even doubt that? I just…”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Shouldn’t you have asked for my consent before making this mythical, eternal bond? A bond that can basically_ kill _you if something ever goes wrong?”_

 

Alan sighed and leaned back in his chair. If only bonds worked that way.

The simplest explanation he’d ever found in all his studies of lore, was that the mind and the body just don’t see deep enough or far enough to recognize their soulmates. But Lycans had the spirit of the wolf to guide them, one that had keener foresight and powerful sensors to glance beyond the veil and seek out one’s soulmate. That’s why humans spent most of their lives alone, floundering in the dark. Humans suppressed their spiritual energies. Lycans embraced them.

He wondered where shifters fell on that spectrum. From what he’d heard so far, it seemed they were closer to the human end.

_“So you KNEW that this might happen? You knew it and went ahead with it anyway?”_

_“You’re acting as if I plotted this huge conspiracy to trap you! Are you really that unhappy to be my mate?”_

_“No, that’s… no…”_

_“So what’s the problem?”_

_“The problem is that I am a shifter! I am not like you guys! I’ll never be accepted in Albion, so how can this possibly work?”_

Alan stood up, hoping that maybe pacing would help allay his doubts and fears a little. It didn’t. He knew exactly how this was going to work. That rebel ex-cop Morgan – Jensen’s biological father – he would use this opportunity to swoop in and create a rift between Jensen and Alan. He would open his home in Santorini, invite Jensen and Jared to live with him and that human mate of his.

Alan had never trusted Jeffrey. But that human he trusted even less.

The High Alpha sighed heavily, he couldn’t let it come to that. Hilarie would never forgive him if they lost their only son.

There was more shouting and arguing, and then there were tears and consoling. And now words of love and tenderness were being exchanged. His wolf heart swelled to three times its size when he heard the following words from his son’s mouth:

 

_“I know my father, Jared. Trust me, he’s mad right now but he’ll get over it. He loves me too much. And in time, he will come to love you too. They all will.”_

Alan stopped pacing and returned to his chair behind a giant alpine desk.

“Misha! Get in here!”

The human came running into the library a second later, clearly he’d been hovering just outside the door. He looked nervous like he always did in Alan’s presence (and Jensen’s absence.)

“We still have a hearing to prepare for, don’t we?”

The man straightened up, glad to have a clear agenda to discuss. “Yes sir. The Earth Tribunal convenes in three days.”

That’s when they’d determine Jensen’s sentence for transforming inside human territory.

“So what’s our defense?”

“We’ll argue that Jensen transformed only to save a life. He acted in the interests of a human being.”

“Except Detective Lisa Berry knows that Jared is not human, and if she’s called to the stand to provide witness...”

“We could argue that Jensen didn’t know at the time. They have no proof that he does even now.”

“No, I don’t want to be lying to the Tribunal. And I certainly don’t want my son to do it.”

“Okay then. We argue that Jensen transformed to save an innocent sentient being’s life.”

“But what if they don’t afford Jared the same stature and rights as a human being?”

“I’d have no choice but to argue otherwise, Alpha.”

“And take on the deep-rooted prejudices of the entire humanoid species?” Alan scoffed. “No, my boy, that battle may need fighting someday. But today’s not that day.”

Misha sighed, looking worried. “I don’t know what else to do. We can’t deny it. The evidence is pretty insurmountable. Traffic cameras caught part of the transformation. And based on that, Detective Berry acquired satellite footage that clearly shows it was Jensen.”

“What else does it show?”

“The whole thing really… Jensen defending Jared from certain death.”

Alan nodded; just what he wanted to hear. “I’d suggest reviewing the ancient truce laws, Mr. Collins. I realize you’ve not had much occasion to use it before.”

“Uh, no sir.”

“Let me narrow it down for you then. Look at Article 39C of the New Tibet Accord of 801 PG.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get to it right away.”

Misha hurried out of the library to grab his digipad, and Alan leaned back in his chair. Three doors away, the voices that had gone quiet for a while, began to speak again. And once again, Alan couldn’t help but overhear.

 

_“Hey, Jared… you studied ancient truce laws, didn’t you?”_

_“Sure, why?”_

_“What is Article 39C of the New Tibet Accord?”_

 

Alan couldn’t help but laugh out loud, knowing Jensen would easily hear that too. That son of his was wilier now in his youth than he ever was back as a pup.

 

 

**** -- ** -- **-- ****

#### Août, 3946 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Wembley Prison  
_ ** **_Fifty kilometers outside Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

“So if you could be anyone, be anything, what would you choose?”

Jared ignored the question and continued his pacing. Not that there was much distance between the back-wall and the front bars of the tiny cell they put him in. A space that felt infinitely smaller thanks to the yammering roommate they just gave him.

His name was Ty Olsson. And he lay sprawled across the lower bunk, taking up as much space as he possibly could.

“Come on, big J, talk to me. Last night on planet earth… who knows if we’ll ever get a chance to speak words ever again.”

Jared paused and turned to the other man. Looking at him, nobody would’ve guessed he was on death row.

The older man smirked. “Compassion, huh? I knew you didn’t belong here.”

Jared looked away, started to pace again. Olsson began yapping again, this time more cheerily than before. “I’d be a cockroach. Look how long these little buggers have lasted, how many extinction level events they’ve survived! Cockroaches are the biggest and baddest of bad-asses this side of the galaxy, if you ask me.”

Jared wasn’t asking, not that it mattered.

“And sure they’re ugly, gross and unhygienic but you have to hand it to ‘em… they _own_ it. No shame, you know? I respect that.”

Jared turned to look at his new cellmate, suspicion brimming in his eyes. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Olsson smirked again, leaned back against the soundproof wall. “Who I am doesn’t matter. The question you want to ask, big J, is _what_ am I? And I think if you looked more carefully, you’ll know the answer. Just like I can see what _you_ are.”

Two days ago, Jared’s instinctive reaction would have been fear, followed by outright denial. But now, whatever was the point? Adie was dead. And he was going to join her soon. Which was just as well. He no longer had the will to live in this cruel, unjust world. So what reason did he have to hide his true identity anymore?

“All right. Tell me, what am I, Mr. Olsson?”

“Ooh, respectful too!” Olsson grinned. “You are…” Jared held his breath. “…innocent, Mr. Padalecki. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jared exhaled. He couldn’t help but feel grateful that someone believed him, even if it made no difference now. “And you, Mr. Olsson? Are you really an anarchist as charged?”

Olsson leaned forward. “Every civilization gets the anarchists it deserves, Mr. Padalecki. Me, I just believe that all the people who hold power in a society, must be held responsible for their actions towards every being in that society. It just so happens that these holders of power don’t much enjoy a mirror in their faces. Hence, me, here. On death row, with innocent little you.”

Jared scoffed bitterly. Once upon a time these lofty, idealistic notions of revolution would have fascinated him to no end. But he’d traded his ideologies for a cushy life in the city with Adrianne. And look where it got him. 

“Look at the pair of us – one who followed his true calling, the other who ran from it. And we both end up in the same place.”

Jared stared at the astonishingly perceptive man, stunned into silence.

Olsson looked to be in his mid-forties. His beard was peppered with a generous gray. And when Jared looked closely, he found black streaks all around Olsson’s throat. Like the blood in his veins had turned to ink, forming a grotesque vine creeping out of his collar, climbing all the way to his face.

“DNA poisoning,” Jared whispered, recognizing the signs. “You’re a shifter. And you’re dying.”

“Yahtzee!”

Jared looked away, not sure how to respond. It was Ty who broke the awkward silence, again. “You know, I’ve never quite understood what that word means.”

“Me neither.” Jared smiled, surprised he was able to do so at all.

Olsson stood up. “I knew what you were the moment you stepped out of the transporter, Mr. Padalecki. It’s why I bribed the officer on duty with my last pack of vapor sticks to move in here with you.”

“And why did you do that, Mr. Olsson?”

“To make you an offer. I have an escape plan, but it only works with two people, and the chances of it working double if we’re both shifters. Granted one more shift might actually be my last. But I’d rather die out there, doing what I was born to do, than in here. In this wretched human prison.”

Jared blinked, hardly believing these words that could well be the difference between life and death. “Are-are you… please don’t be playing games with me, Mr. Olsson.”

“I’m dead serious, Mr. Padalecki, pun totally intended.”

He thought he’d resigned himself to his fate – death by lethal injection. But that was a lie, or he wouldn’t have been pacing back and forth in a state of low-grade fury and utter panic all night.  

“I just need to know one thing,” Olsson said.

“Anything.”

“What will you do when you get your life back, Mr. Padalecki? Will you go back to pretending to be someone else? Or will you stand up and show a mirror to those holders of power who’ve been grinding your kind under the heels of their animal skin shoes for three thousand years?”

“…”

“Answer me, Jared, what will you do?”

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

“Jared? Hey, wake up… Jared?”

Jared blinked his eyes open and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hey, shh, you’re okay, just a nightmare. Or memory maybe…” Jensen whispered softly, his face bare inches away. His hands were wrapped around Jared’s biceps in an attempt to keep him from slipping to the cabin floor and cracking his head open or something.

“How did you know? – Oh…” Jared rubbed his eyes, realizing Jensen must have sensed his distress through their bond. “This will take a little getting used to, won’t it?”

“You mean the complete and utter lack of privacy?” Jensen grinned sheepishly. “Oh yes. Want to tell me what it was about?”

Jared shook his head and tried to shirk him off. Jensen retracted his hands in placation and went back to his own seat. Jared rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the last vestiges of his trip down memory lane. One that took him back to Wembley, to that cell he shared with the shifter who saved Jared’s life, and lost his own in the process.

“Sorry to wake you, _jaan_ , but we’re here. Just about to land.”

Jared tilted his head and looked at his mate curiously. “What does that mean – _jaan_?”

Someone softly snorted at the other end of the cabin, and Jared remembered they weren’t alone in the plane.

Alan sat with his legs crossed elegantly, engrossed in his digipad. Though Jared was 90% positive it was he who just snorted, so ‘engrossed’ might be a tad exaggerated. Misha was also there, sitting further left of the High Alpha, and he was grinning openly.

“I’ll tell you another time,” Jensen whispered, nodding towards Alan, and Jared had no choice but to wait. He glanced out the gigantic windows of the Ackles jet and frowned in confusion. He saw nothing but bright blue skies above, and townships of white fluffy clouds below.

“Hey Jensen… land where? We’re still pretty high up, aren’t we?”

Jensen smiled and glanced over at Misha who smirked back. “Where did you think we were going, Jared?” the attorney asked, a little patronizingly.

“To the Earth Tribunal? I know they meet at a different location every time so…”

“Well, that much is true. They do change locations every time,” Misha responded cryptically but didn’t elaborate.

Jared was getting sick of all the secrecy that was clearly just a way for them to have fun at his expense. He was about to snap back when Jensen, chuckling, squeezed his arm gently. “Hey, look out there.”

Jared leaned in the direction Jensen pointed at, and finally understood. His brows went up and his mouth opened into a neat little O.

“Now that’s cool.”

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Mars, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Earth Tribunal, aboard the United Continents Helicarrier  
60,000 feet above Midworld _ **

 

Five humanoid races were represented on the Tribunal panel of judges – Lycan, Sheran, Equidean, Mer, and Human.

Jensen sat in the defendant’s row on the right with Jared by his side. The two beings were dressed in business formals – Jensen’s suit was slate gray, and Jared’s was pitch black. Alan refrained from attending (and stayed back on the jet) because of his connections to the panel. He didn’t want to stoke any murmurs of preferential bias at this hearing.

On the left side sat the family of the late Lane Edwards, the bodyguard who tried to kill Jared under orders from his bosses, Mark Pellegrino and Emily Swallow. They’d just been appointed a new lawyer as their old one – Adam Fergus – just quit. Actually his entire law firm, P&S Associates, had been dissolved following the sentencing of their founding partners.

Detective Lisa Berry was there too, required to provide context for the incidents that occurred six nights ago.

And then there was the press. Media groups from all nine human territories were present and eager to cover what they were calling the scandal of the millennium. A Loric had just defied the ancient laws that maintained peace between the dominant races of the world. Everyone was just dying to know why. And what the consequences would be.

“Honorable Judges,” Misha stood and addressed the panel seated in front of, and high above everyone else. “I do not wish to waste the Tribunal’s time stringing this out any longer than necessary. So without further delay, I invoke Article 39C of the New Tibet Accord. According to which, a Loric being is well within their rights to act in self-defense.”

“Self-defense?!?” One of the judges, the human one, asked skeptically. “Are we talking about the same set of events, Mr. Collins?”

“We are, your honor. The protection of a bonded mate, as you very well know, is tantamount to self-defense.”

A loud, collective expression of surprise erupted from the audience behind him. Misha almost smirked, but maintained his composure and carried on.

“If the mate dies, so does the Loric in question, 99.9% of the time. I further present to you – my client Jensen Ackles, Alpha-apparent of Albion, and his bonded mate – Jared Padalecki.”

The two named men rose to their feet. Jensen held Jared’s hand tightly in his, protectively. He hadn’t been too keen on using their bond to get himself out of legal trouble. But once Jared realized how it could save Jensen from years-long imprisonment aboard the United Continents Helicarrier, there was no arguing with him.

Meanwhile, the media erupted into a frenzy behind them.

“Order! Order!” The presiding judge, a Sheran by the name of Michael Cudlitz, growled them into silence.

“Mr. Padalecki. Under pain of punishment this Tribunal orders you to truthfully confirm or deny this claim Mr. Collins just made. Are you or are you not bonded to the Lycan, Jensen Ackles of Albion?”

Jared stood up straighter, his grounding as a lawyer returning promptly. “I am, your honor.”

Judge Cudlitz took off his glasses and narrowed his eyes, as if the Sheran could also spot an ethereal bond connecting the mates to each other. Jared guessed it must be a Loric thing.

“So I see,” the judge remarked, before donning his glasses again. “Well, we’ve all seen the very dramatic footage. There is no denying that per Article 39C, this was a case of self-defense. So unless my honorable colleagues disagree, I am going to dismiss all charges against the defendant.”

The panel unanimously nodded and were already preparing to leave, when a woman on the left side of the room stood up and interrupted the proceedings.

“This is not justice, your honor!” She screamed.

“Identify yourself!” Cudlitz ordered.

She stood up. “Elena Deveraux. Lane was my fiancé. And he was only doing his job! How is it fair that a human be murdered to save the life of a pretender who lied about his true identity to everyone for years? _A_ _fucking_ _mutt_?”

Now the media really lost it. Whispers and questions including the words ‘shifter’ and ‘Jared’ compounded from all across the room.

“Order! ORDER! ORDER!” Cudlitz roared.

The judges sat back down in their chairs.

“The Earth Tribunal has already passed judgment in this case, Ms. Devereux. You have our sympathies, but your fiancé tried to take the life of another being. A bonded being at that. If he’d succeeded, he would have ended not one but two lives. This is not about who is human, shifter or Lycan. All lives are equal in the eyes of this Tribunal.”

“Your honor,” someone spoke out from the right side of the hall. All eyes, microphones and cameras pivoted in that direction. It was Jared.

“May I say something?”

He was standing, waiting for permission from the judge to speak. Jensen and Misha both sat beside him, looking up at him, wondering what he was about to do. Jensen for one looked downright terrified.

Cudlitz huffed but allowed it. “Go ahead, Mr. Padalecki.”

Jared took in a deep breath and turned towards the woman. “I am sorry for your loss, I truly am. I lost my fiancée seven months ago too. I know exactly how devastated you must feel.”

The woman’s face crumpled despite her best efforts.

“And I’m not going to stand here and deny what you just said. I refuse to hide anymore. Yes, I am a shifter.”

The murmur in the room around him started to escalate.

“Truth is, Edwards was going to kill me either way. It didn’t matter that I was a shifter. My fiancée was human. Didn’t matter, they murdered her anyway. But to imply that they’d somehow be justified, or less guilty of a crime based on the victim’s race – that is fucked up, Ms. Devereux.”

Someone in the audience yelled a resounding “Yes!” but no one else joined that one lone voice.

“Now I’d really like to tell you that my life – a shifter’s life – is just as valuable as that of a human. I mean, principally, I know that it’s true, at least I _hope_ it is. But I haven’t believed it myself for such a long time. So how can I possibly expect you or anyone else to believe it?”

An eerie silence descended. This was not what anyone in the room expected to hear. Not even Jensen. Jared sighed deeply, trying really hard to hold his tears back because what he had to say, needed to be said in a clear, loud, _stable_ voice. He needed people to listen, he needed people to understand.

“I hid my shifter origins for decades to find acceptance in Manchester. I turned my back on my community and tried to be one of you. Because the truth is, your honor – you might speak of equality and justice for all, here sixty thousand feet in the air. But down there, on the ground, the reality is that we’re _not_ equal. Shifters don’t have the life they want for themselves or their children. They’re not afforded the same opportunities, or the same access to education and health. And they definitely don’t have your trust and respect. Let’s be honest – there are only five humanoid races represented here on the Tribunal. One’s missing, don’t you think?”

Cudlitz did not react. He probably knew it wasn’t directed solely at him anyway.

Jared turned to the media. “I know we’re not going to solve this problem in one dramatic courtroom scene. I wish it were that easy, but nothing is. All I can do is use this opportunity to let the world know that _I_ am not afraid anymore. I am not ashamed anymore. I am a shifter. And I don’t fucking care what race _you_ are. So long as you respect me, I will return it in kind.”

A few more voices agreed with him this time, and they were enough, just like that first one was.

“Because if we can’t learn to respect each other, we’ll find ourselves back in the same place as our prehistoric ancestors who annihilated themselves because they couldn't get along with those who didn't look or talk or pray like them.”

And then he was done. There was nothing more left to say.

The voices of assent got louder, some even started a small applause. The cameras hadn’t stopped flashing ever since Jared stood up. A lot of them caught Jensen watching his mate with incredible love and pride in his eyes. Those snapshots were already online all over the planet. Many caught the judges’ panel exchanging looks that would later be described as deliberate and meaningful. Jared’s plea may have been focused on civil rights for shifters. But it could just as easily be about addressing prejudices that ran deep within the Loric communities as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Padalecki,” Judge Cudlitz cut the proceedings short before the growing ruckus turned into an outright rebellion. “The Tribunal has spoken, and now stands adjourned… until it’s called to action again.”

He looked specifically at Jared as he uttered those words.

“All rise!” The bailiff announced.

Everyone stood and waited till the judges filed out before starting to leave themselves. Everyone except the reporters, who formed a circle around the three beings on the right – a Lycan Alpha, his shifter mate, and their human friend.

“You realize what just happened, don’t you?” Jensen stood up and whispered into Jared’s ear.

Jared turned to him and shook his head.

“That judge, Cudlitz? He just offered his support to you in case you brought a motion before the Tribunal on shifter rights issues.”

Jared looked back up towards the high panel, but he was too late. Cudlitz was already gone.

“Hey…” Jared turned back to look at Jensen and found his mate beaming at him. “I’m so… so proud of you.”

Jared smiled. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel so ashamed of himself either.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****


	11. Chapter 11

#### Avril, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**Aboard the Nyctimus,  
Bay of Eritrea**

> _  
> It’s been a week since the Tribunal hearing of Man. vs Ackles was televised live across the planet. But the resulting furor refuses to die out. A Loric bonding with a shifter has shaken the conservative foundations of all humanoid societies in the post-glacial era. The emphatic words of Jared Padalecki are evoking great surges of empathy not just from Manchester, but all corners of the world. Mr. Padalecki has inspired other shifters living in hiding to reveal their true selves. Social networks have been teeming with many such ‘coming out’ announcements in the last six days…_

 

“Please turn that off,” Jared implored, looking away from the plasma.

They were reclining in white lounge chairs on the upper deck, soaking in the sunshine, and sipping their drinks – a Sazerac for Jared and a Silankan iced tea for Jensen.

“I’m not your butler. You do it,” Jensen responded, smiling at his mate.

“What do you mean?”

“Try it.”

Jared licked his lips. “Nikki, turn off the plasma please?”

The yacht’s AI did as commanded and Jensen grinned. “I’ve programmed it to accept your voice.”

“Thank you, Jensen.”

“You’re very welcome.”

They sat quietly, Jensen casually brushing a hand over Jared’s nearest arm every now and then. The boy looked absolutely breath-taking, in his opinion. He wore a light pink pullover with white cargo pants cut off at the knees, and brown faux-leather sandals. In contrast, Jensen wore a white cotton shirt with grey chinos that stopped a couple inches above his ankles, and black suede loafers with tassels. They both had shades on to shield their eyes from the vibrant sun.

Something was bothering Jared, Jensen could tell. “Adrianne’s parents haven’t returned your call, have they?”

“I had such a good relationship with them once. I don’t know, I don’t know what I was expecting…”

Jensen swung his legs to sit sideways so he could lean closer to his mate. “Let’s be patient. They’re old-school, they’re going to need more time than everyone else.”

“I suppose,” Jared took off his shades to look at Jensen. “In better news, a lot of my old classmates from Oxbridge and Eyton have been writing. Even the ones I wasn’t exactly friends with, have been expressing support. And congratulating us on the bonding…”

Jared smiled shyly, which made Jensen lean further in and steal a quick kiss from his lush red lips.

“Do you think we could go back inland for a bit today? I was hoping maybe we could talk to Tahmoh… in person?”

Jensen sighed. “I know you’re bored, _jaan_. Being stuck here on this miserable, wretched lap of luxury in the middle of the ocean with me…”

“It’s absolutely horrendous, really,” Jared sassed back, making Jensen crinkle his eyes.

“But Dad’s very clear on this. We _have_ to stay out of the media glare and not give them any more ammunition to keep dragging this out. The bureaucrats on the mountain are pissed enough as it is.”

“I know, I get it.” Jared squeezed Jensen’s hands back. “Just wish we could do something about _that_ …”

 _That_ meaning the monstrous drill platform Armstrong had erected not too far from where the Nyctimus was anchored. Close enough that Jared and Jensen could see it from the upper deck.

In the last week alone, Armstrong had accelerated his timeline and was going full-steam ahead with installation of his primary drill. The inauguration was scheduled to happen in four days.

Jensen straightened up. “Berry is our best hope right now. If she can connect Curtis to Pellegrino, we might be able to put an end to this. In the meantime, we’re supporting Tahmoh every way we can.”

“Yes but we can do more, Jensen.”

“You want to go join the protest at the pier?”

“I do and I will, but not you,” Jared smirked. “You, sir, must stay away and not meddle in human affairs any more than you already have. The Accord expressly forbids you, but didn’t think shifters important enough to write about, did they?”

Jensen sighed. “I know. But if you’re going to join the protest then I have no choice but to come with.”

“Well, there are going to be a lot of cameras at the pier, so you best stay out of view.”

Jensen pouted unhappily. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Hold on,” Jared swung his legs over to the side as well, facing Jensen and leaning forward to mimic his mate’s posture. “Did I just tell a Lycan Alpha what to do? And did you just _let_ me?”

Jensen squinted at Jared trying very hard not to smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

Jared giggled. “Well, I am still bored. And I can think of a couple other demands I’d like you to fulfill…”

Jensen loved this new side of Jared. This Jared was so different from the demure, submissive courtesan he was pretending to be last month. Also very different from the quiet, shuttered young lawyer he met seven months ago. This Jared was… free, relaxed, and a little bratty if Jensen were being totally honest. He absolutely loved it.

He took Jared’s hands in his own, brought one up to his mouth and kissed the back of it passionately. “Your wish is my command, _jaan_.”

Jared grinned.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

The shifter buried his face into a pillow and moaned long and low in his throat. He was sweating profusely. The bed sheets beneath him were drenched in bodily fluids of more than one kind. But he asked for this, so he had no one else to blame (or credit) but himself.

“AH! Oh my, Jensen…”

He was naked and face down, with his legs flung apart and toes pointed upwards to the sky. His mate, also naked, lay behind him, between his spread legs. With one large hand, Jensen pumped Jared’s cock, coaxing from it a third release, or was it fourth – Jared had lost count. With the other hand, Jensen held his cheeks apart, exposing his orifice to the Alpha’s eyes. His face was lowered close enough for his hot breaths to tickle the swollen red furls around his hole, making Jared gasp.

“Tell me again how much you want this…” Jensen demanded, teasing a slick digit inside.

Jared wriggled upwards, undulating his hips in an effort to take in more, get closer. “Holy fucking continents, Alpha please… there’s nothing I want more. I want your mouth and I want it now!”

The Alpha’s little growl sent a warm current of elation running up to his face. Nothing made Jared happier than to see his mate so turned on and joyful himself.

“All right then, my little lynx,” Jensen dug two digits into Jared and swirled them around, making Jared writhe harder. A second later, a hot tongue flicked across Jared’s hole and he whimpered. 

“Please, more… please Alpha…”

Jensen obliged. He pressed his tongue flat against Jared’s opening, licking in long, languorous strokes, before breaching through. Jared mewled louder, pulling his knees wider apart and pushing his ass up for Jensen to go deeper. The Alpha took his time. He tongue-fucked Jared in a rhythmic series of hot, generous thrusts, lapping him up like a feline working his way down a deep bowl of milk. His fingers occasionally dipped in alongside his tongue, causing that wonderful sensation of being stuffed that Jared enjoyed so much.

He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and mewled endlessly. He firmly believed he would die of distress if Jensen ever stopped rimming him again. A steady coil of tension continued to twist and tighten in the center of his gut. His limbs strained, his toes twitched, and the occasional (not accidental) brush against his prostate sent him straight to sensory heaven.

But his body could hold out against the onslaught of pleasure for only so long. Jared braced himself on his forearms, pushed his ass up further, and came apart at the seams. Everything he _was_ seemed to splash out of him in that singular moment, and he felt drained, shattered, utterly and completely fucked beyond recognition.

Jensen chuckled behind him. His lips switched to pressing little kisses all over the shifter’s bottom, shushing him softly. “You’re okay, lynx, you’re okay…”

Jared couldn’t help but smile. He felt inebriated in the best damn way possible. Then he remembered his loving and immensely generous mate hadn’t asked for anything all night. And Jared knew just how to fix that.

“Jensen, I need more… please…”

“Of course, shh, give me a second…”

And sure enough, a second later, Jensen pulled Jared up to his knees and slid his rock hard shaft smoothly and gracefully into Jared’s pulsating hole. Jared trembled from head to toe, barely recovered from his last release but this round was meant for Jensen and Jensen alone. The Lycan leaned forward and draped himself over his mate. Arms came up around Jared’s torso, fingers finding each other, entangling, holding each other as Jensen plowed into Jared. The shifter threw his head back against Jensen’s neck, closed his eyes and moaned.

“Fenrir, you’re insatiable! What did I do to deserve you?”

Jared smiled and just thrust back teasingly against Jensen’s cock, making the Lycan gasp out loud. Together they moved for what felt like an eternity and wishing it to never be over. And when Jensen couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he let loose with a deep, guttural groan, gripping Jared’s waist so hard the shifter couldn’t breathe. The dual sensations of pain and pleasure sent Jared hurtling over the edge _again_ , staining the bed sheets for the fourth (or was it fifth) time that night.

“That… that was…” Jared couldn’t complete the sentence. He hadn’t the words.

“I know, it was.” Jensen panted. They lay beside each other on the bed, struggling to catch their breaths.

It was a while before either of them spoke again. “You know I love you for more than the sex, right, Jensen?”

The Alpha glared at his mate. Then their shared laughter echoed through the yacht for many minutes.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

“I see you’re using a different lubricant from the one Matt had at the Court.”

Jensen opened his eyes and looked at the mate he was spooned around, ensconced in his arms. He’d thought Jared would be falling asleep by now. Instead the younger being was looking at a little glass jar on the bedside table, reading the label curiously.

“You don’t like this one?”

“I don’t mind it. It’s just… the other one, um, tingled, like mint. I just assumed all lubricants did that.” Jared craned his head back to look at Jensen and grinned impishly.

Jensen chuckled and softly pecked at his mate’s lips. “That’s because the other one had aconite in it. In small doses, it acts as a contraceptive basically…”

“I know. The kind that makes sure Lorics don’t accidentally impregnate other races, sully up their pure, _superior_ bloodlines…”

Jensen bit his lip, choosing his next words carefully. But this was his mate, the partner he was going to spend the rest of his life with. What need was there for diplomacy between them?

“I admit this is not going to be easy, Jared. You and me… Albion is going to be pretty hard on us. But we don’t have to go back there, you know. We can go anywhere in the world! We can live on this boat, make the neutral waters of Panama our home for all I care. We could go to Santorini and live with my biological father…”

Jared turned over in his arms while Jensen was speaking. He pulled the plush white mink blanket (faux of course) over them both and snuggled closer to Jensen as if to capture more of the Lycan’s body heat.

“Tell me more about Santorini…”

Jensen kissed the tip of Jared’s nose and did as asked. He told him stories of his dad, Jeffrey, and how he met his human mate, Andrew. He described the beautiful island ruins and pulled up the plasma to show Jared some pictures. Jared scrolled through the images as he listened to Jensen’s words, completely enthralled by it all.

“It’s so beautiful…”

“I’ll take you there soon. Dad would want to meet you. You’re his only son-in-law after all.”

Jared smiled, and paused at a picture of the two men together. They were standing outside their cottage with the crystal blue lagoon forming an exquisite background. Jeff had one arm around the smaller man, grinning brightly. Andy was a bit more restrained as he stood leaning into his mate; but he looked happy.

“I never knew my father.”

Jensen blinked and looked down at Jared. He felt a great sadness welling up through the bond, and his arms tightened around his mate.

“Momma never spoke of him. All I know is, they dated for a little while and then he left. No goodbyes, no explanation. Guess we weren’t worth the trouble.”

Jensen sighed, not sure how to respond. Clearly a part of Jared blamed himself for his father leaving, like most children do in such situations. Jensen didn’t know the man but he hated him already. Prehistoric humans had an apt term for fathers like that – dirtbeats, or deadbeats, something like that.

“So much of who you are is determined by where you come from, and by the people who raised you. I can see Alan in you, even though he’s not your biological father. And from everything you’ve told me about Jeff, I can see where your rebellious streak comes from. But me?” Jared looked back wistfully at the photo again, “All I got from my momma was her lack of self-esteem and her fear of persecution by other races…”

Jensen waved at the plasma to make it go away, held Jared’s face in his hands and looked right into his hazel eyes. “You’re right, like it or not, our past does define who we are today. But it doesn’t have to define who we’ll be tomorrow. You can choose who you want to be, Jared. In your case, LITERALLY!”

Jared snorted, “That is true.”

Jensen smiled at him gently. “But I’m hoping that after everything you’ve been through, this time you’ll choose to be yourself. Because who you are, what you are is beautiful and interesting, and absolutely priceless as far as I’m concerned.”

Jared’s eyes glittered and the bond trembled between them. Jensen waited with bated breath for his mate to say something, anything.

“Something tells me you’d make a very good father someday, Jensen.”

Jensen started. That was not the reaction he’d expected. But it sent a rush of warmth up his spine that left him feeling both proud and bereft at the same time.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared bit his lip to keep it from quivering.

He was turning into quite the sap ever since he bonded with this annoyingly perfect Lycan. Maybe it was the weight of both their emotions combined that he felt through the bond. Or maybe for the first time in his life, he wasn’t suppressing his feelings anymore. But the main reason why he was on the brink of tears right now was because, even without the bond, he could see it on Jensen’s face plain as day – the Alpha wanted to have children. He wanted to be a father someday.

“I’m so sorry, Jensen. I wish I could bear you children but…”

“Hey, just because you can’t bear children physically doesn’t mean we can’t have any children at all!”

“No, of course, there are so many ways. But I just wish that I could…”

Jared didn’t get to finish that sentence. His mouth was sealed shut by his mate’s lips closing around his, dragging him into a long, heartfelt kiss that aimed to somehow suck all of his weariness away. It almost worked too.

Jared opened his eyes, saw the worried look in Jensen’s eyes and decided he needed to make it go away. He twisted his lips into a silly grin and craned back up for another kiss. This time he led the way, sucking at Jensen’s tongue until he heard the Alpha moan helplessly.

“All right, no more complaining about things that Lorics can do and shifters can’t,” he quipped good-naturedly, once they parted.

“Actually, I have no idea if you can or cannot get pregnant. There’s no precedence to speak of, but who is to say it can’t happen?”

Jared just shrugged. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Honestly he was quite surprised at how disappointed he was feeling. A year ago, he wouldn’t have cared if Adrianne and he never had children of their own. He never thought he’d make a good father, given the lack of role models in his own life.

“There is only one thing I can promise. If we ever do have children, I will love them unconditionally. And I’ll be there for them no matter what.”

“Even if they were shifters?”

Jensen sighed, and maybe even looked a little angry at the insinuation. Jared’s eyes watered again and he looked away. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. It’ll take you a while to completely trust me, I understand that.”

“It’s not _you_ , Jensen.” Jared rested his forehead on Jensen’s sternum. “Growing up like I did, hiding my true self from everyone… a life-long identity crisis like that tends to destroy all your self-worth.”

“I know, _jaan_ , I know...”

The Alpha decided they needed another distraction. So they made love again. Gently, and slowly. Jared let Jensen take care of him, holding and loving him in every way the Lycan could think of. Soon they were on their sides with Jensen lodged inside Jared, his knot locking them together, throbbing intermittently. And they just lay there lazing, feeling, unmoving, luxuriating in the sensations like they had all the time in the world.

“This bond business is quite the mind-fuck,” Jared mused, nuzzling against the Alpha behind him like a cat.

“How so?”

“Because I’m probably feeling everything that you’re feeling on top of everything I’m feeling. And that multiplied by a hundred, is probably what _you’re_ feeling. How do you tell it all apart?”

Jensen chuckled. “That’s the beauty of it, my love. There’s no need to.”

The bond had truly turned the two of them into one single organism. Jared couldn’t imagine ever going back to being on his own again. He would quite literally die, even without the biological imperative of the Loric gene.

“Hey Jensen? In the alley that night in Kensington, I thought I…um, never mind.”

“What? You heard me in your head?”

Jared blinked up at the Lycan. “Was that real?”

Jensen seemed quite delighted. “I didn’t know that you had! Two Lycan mates share a telepathic bond. My friends Tom and Jaime once invited me to dinner. And I thought they were fighting because they weren’t talking to each other. Turns out they can have entire conversations, all in their heads without realizing it. So annoying. Don’t know of any humans who can hear their Loric mates in their heads though. Must be a shifter thing. Can you hear what I’m thinking now?”

“Are you thinking about dinner?”

“Uh, no.”

“Just me then.”

Jensen tickled Jared, making him squeak. “Must have been a one-off, what with heightened emotions and adrenaline in the moment.”

“Must be,” Jared bit his lip, quite fascinated. “Is there anything else you can feel through the bond that I can’t?”

Jensen thought about it. “I guess there’s the bond itself.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Loric gene allows us to see through the veil that connects this world to the spirit world. That’s how I can actually _see_ our bond, tethering us together.”

“What does it look like?”

“Everyone’s bond looks different, I think, or everyone sees it differently. What I see, for example, resembles the, um… the red silk rope I tied you up with, that night during my rut?”

Jared squinted. “You’re joking.”

Jensen chuckled. “No, really! It’s shinier, everything shimmers over on the other side but, yeah, that’s what it looks like to me.”

Jared turned away, trying his best not to let the hot blush in his cheeks spread any further. Memories of that glorious night were still so fresh, so potent in his mind. Just the mention was enough to spark his arousal again. And thanks to the stupid bond, his mate was feeling it too.

“Ah! Damn you Lorics,” Jared grumbled hoarsely as Jensen started moving again.

In the precious moments of ecstasy that followed, Jared opened his lust-glazed eyes and for a moment he thought he saw a length of red silk wound around his left wrist. He blinked and tried to follow it to the other end. But just as it snaked up towards the Lycan behind him, Jared blinked again and the vision disappeared. Jared shook his head, chalking it up to his own vivid imagination. Instead he craned his neck back to capture his mate’s mouth with his own.

 

_“I love you Jensen, so much.”_

_“I love you too,_ jaan _, more than anything…”_

 

None of the words exchanged were spoken out loud. But in that moment, the couple was too pre-occupied to notice.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Avril, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Inaugural Celebration Cruise, anchored near pier 28  
_ ** **_Southern coast of Manchester_ **

 

Curtis Armstrong felt his phone buzz and excused himself. He left the main deck where the party was in full swing, to walk up to the more private top deck.

“Madam President! What a wonderful surprise!”

Amanda Tapping’s voice came through the encrypted connection firm and clear. _“Congratulations, Curtis. You finally got what you wanted.”_

“Not yet, Madam President, but we’re getting there, thanks to you.”

Curtis smirked and glanced at the drilling platform not too far away. It had been inaugurated earlier this morning. They’d even drilled a hundred and fifty kilometers deeper than the target depth planned.

_“I’m sorry I cannot be there in person. I hope you understand.”_

“Of course!” Curtis rolled his eyes. With public sentiment quickly building up in support of the fucking fishes, the woman was even more reluctant to take sides, waiting to see how it played out. _Politicians_.

“I hope things are well on your end? I’ve been hearing about a certain detective at the 1st precinct that’s refusing to let this go.”

_“Yes, Detective Berry seems to have made it her life’s mission to get Adrianne Palicki the true justice she deserves.”_

Curtis fumed quietly for the next few seconds. And what made him angrier was the fact that Tapping _let_ him.

 _“But I assure you, Curtis,”_ she continued in her oily, bureaucratic voice. _“All measures are being taken, including an injunction that prevents her, the Ackles, and that troublesome shifter boy, Padalecki, from speaking about any of this to the media without judicial approval.”_

“And yet there he is, that Padalecki, at the protest rally right now, as we speak.”

_“Curtis, stop worrying so much and go back to your party. Enjoy this, while you can.”_

The line disconnected, leaving Armstrong feeling not as reassured as he wanted to. He huffed and pocketed the device. Then putting on a broad plastic smile, returned to his party.

Three hundred of the most powerful and elite folks of Manchester were in attendance here on an Armstrong luxury liner, anchored just off of pier 28. Now that the sun was low in the sky, the cruise ship was starting to light up like a multi-string necklace of pearls. Just the thought of those pathetic protestors over at pier 14, watching him celebrate, gave him immense joy. He won. They lost. Simple. Now if they’d only choose to lose gracefully and stop stirring up this nonsensical media frenzy, Curtis would finally be able to relax and enjoy his victory.

With this lustrum deposit under his sole control, he was going to be a very important man. And Armstrong Industries was going to be unstoppable.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

The stage erected at the end of the Eritrean pier may not be illuminated with exorbitantly expensive lights. But it still managed to attract thousands of supporters tonight.

Prince Tahmoh Penikett stood at the podium, wrapping up his ten-minute speech. “Finally, once again, thank you all for coming. It warms my heart to see so many new faces today. And if you look around, you will see more humans and shifters here today than Mers. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a sign to me that we’ve already won.”

People clapped thunderously, not just for Tahmoh but each other, and Tahmoh joined in. After a while he held a hand up requesting silence.

“The Mers don’t ask for much. We live as hermits in shoals tucked away in the deepest drafts of the ocean. We try our best not to take more than we can give back. And it’s our spiritual calling as Lorics of the sea, to be the _protectors_ of the sea. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have you all as allies in this great cause.”

 Once again people cheered and applauded, and Tahmoh then handed it over to the next presenter – a professor at the Cathedral university who’d recently come out as a shifter. He shook hands with her and returned to the wings to stand beside another tall figure who was doing his best to stay hidden from sight.

Tahmoh chuckled. “Come on, stop worrying about it. They loved you!”

“I was stuttering,” Jared sighed, sounding just as anxious as he was ten minutes ago after his speech.

“This is the biggest turnout I’ve seen all month. All these people and all the media coverage – this is all because of you, Jared.”

Jared shook his head. “It’s a big day, my Prince. It is right down to the wire and everybody knows it. These people are showing up for you and the Mers. Not me.”

The Mer leader smiled sardonically. “You’re too kind to everyone but yourself. Apologies for not trusting you earlier. I see now that you had the best of intentions, and you paid for them dearly.”

Jared lowered his head.

“At least some good seems to have come from all that pain – shifters may finally get the recognition and the rights they deserve. You have ignited something here, Jared. Don’t let it go out because you’re too reluctant to be in the limelight.”

Jared looked up at Tahmoh, then quietly nodded. It was a non-committal gesture, intended mainly to close the conversation and move on. But Tahmoh saw something in Jared today that he hadn’t before. This was a changed soul. And no matter how things turned out for the Bay, of one thing he was sure – Manchester had not seen the last of Jared Padalecki yet.

The professor’s speech ended and everyone gave her a heartfelt applause as she left the stage. In her place, now stood two men in white lab coats. Doctors Buckley and Wester from the Seismological Society of Manchester. Tahmoh frowned a little, nervous about this particular segment.

“This is crazy, isn’t it?” Jared leaned towards him and whispered curiously. “Do you really think the Armstrong drill can de-stabilize the bedrock so much?”

“Don’t believe us?” Dr. Buckley was saying on stage, almost as if he’d heard the skepticism from Jared. “Let me show you our findings.”

They projected a bunch of squiggly graphs showing seismic wave patterns on the jumbotron behind them. “In trying to accelerate their extraction project to get it done before it could be stopped, Armstrong has disregarded all security protocols and caused massive ruptures beneath the ocean floor…”

Tahmoh and Jared shared similar frowns as they listened to the scientists explain their theory.

“The technical details are a bit, um… technical,” Jared grimaced.

“I agree, and the doomsday prophetic tone and the hand gestures may be just a little too much,” Tahmoh added.

The crowd seemed to agree as they stayed quiet during the presentation. And then Dr. Wester screamed at the top of his lungs. “And Curtis Armstrong is a douche bag!”

Everyone cheered at that. Tahmoh and Jared looked at each other and shrugged. Every little bit helped, they supposed.

Overhead a news copter glided by, silent and non-intrusive, even at the low altitude it hovered at. The live coverage was probably cutting back and forth between the protest and the party happening simultaneously.

Tahmoh didn’t expect much from Tapping anymore. If she had any intention to help the Mers, she would have said something by now. No, his one last hope now was for the media to carry his plea to other human territories and Loric packs around the globe. And for some intercontinental pressure to build that might force Manchester to do the right thing.

In the distance, Tahmoh spotted a famous MNN reporter interviewing a couple of protestors in the back of the rally. Emily Perkins, he believed her name was, and it wasn’t clear yet where her allegiances lay. He could only hope she was being fair.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

> _And the David versus Goliath saga continues to play out in two locations at once tonight. Over there on pier 28 – an Armstrong luxury liner has been converted into a party cruise celebrating day one of the drill’s operation. And here on pier 14 – the rally continues to gather steam with over two thousand Mancunians showing up today to protest the extraction…_

 

“This Emily Perkins,” Kathryn began, looking at the reporter on the plasma. “Too perky for primetime in my opinion.”

Jensen ignored the reporter entirely and scoured the broadcast for glimpses of his mate. “Where the hell is he? If he’s just going to hide backstage he might as well come back to the limo.”

“Wow,” Kathryn shook her head. “You’re going to be one of those overbearing, overprotective, domineering mates, aren’t you?”

“He already is,” Misha quipped from beside her. They exchanged similar smirks as they looked up at the male Alpha, now pacing back and forth across the limo.

“Shut up the both of you,” he growled. “Why are you here anyway?”

“To support the cause, of course!” Kathryn retorted with an expression that basically told her big brother how little she thought of his intellectual prowess at the moment.

“Granted it’s from a distance. And in hiding. And you’re not actually doing anything. Since you’re not allowed to, by law…” continued Misha, earning another glare from Jensen.

“You don’t need to keep reminding me, Misha. Why do you think I’m pacing in here?”

The autonomous vehicle was parked about a kilometer away from the rally, far enough to stay out of the media’s eye.

“Oh, there he is!” Kathryn suddenly exclaimed.

Jensen spun around towards the plasma. “Where? Where?”

He didn’t see anything except Miss Perkins and a crowd of heads just behind her. He turned to find his sister and his friend biting back their laughter.

“Very mature. I expect that from Misha, but you too, Kat?”

He turned away to resume pacing, but a second later Kathryn spoke again. “Brother…?”

He huffed and turned towards her again, prepared this time for whatever new prank she had in mind. But something was different this time.

Kathryn was on her feet. In her all-black outfit of tight-fitting jeans and blouse, coupled with a bomber jacket, she looked very much like a human teenager. But her spine was rigid, and her eyes glinted like she was seeing something in the far distance.

“Something’s coming…”

Jensen began to frown, and a second later he felt it too. His Lycan senses, like Kathryn’s, were suddenly on high alert. His spine tingled with a keen but sure awareness that danger approached.

Misha looked between the two Lycans and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

His question was answered when the limo started to shake around them. A second later, a collective sound of surprise rose from the crowd on the news.

 _“Something’s happening here. The pier seems to be trembling beneath our feet…”_ the MNN reporter continued her live commentary.

“It’s an earthquake,” Jensen whispered.

The tremors stopped then. The crowd went deathly quiet.

 _“Looks like it’s over…”_ Perkins said.

“It’s far from over,” Kathryn looked at Jensen. A second later another wave of tremors, a much bigger one, hit the pier and this time people screamed.

On the plasma, the camera caught the left side of the stage cracking and tilting sideways, towards the sea-facing front of the pier.

“No!”

Before Misha could stop him, Jensen was out of the limo in a flash, and Kathryn followed. Their run towards the pier was interrupted by another huge wave of tremors, followed by more screaming in the distance. Something large and bulky broke off the pier and fell into the water below. Jensen sped up, his bond pulsating with his mate’s abject terror on the other end.

_“Please be okay, Jared, please be okay…”_

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

Jared and Tahmoh jumped off the splintered stage just in time before their half of the construction slid off the pier and into the water. They fell to the ground then dragged themselves and a couple of volunteers along towards safety. Tahmoh also grabbed the two scientists and practically carried them away from the edge now leaning further and further towards the water.

Absolute pandemonium broke out on the pier. People turned to run back towards land, causing a major stampede in the process, and destabilizing the structure even more.

“Everyone remain calm!” someone yelled into the microphone. The chaos was interrupted briefly when people turned towards the voice – it was Jared.

“Stay in your spot if another tremor hits, and brace yourself on the ground. Wait and ride it out. Remain calm, and we’ll all get out of here safely…”

As he predicted, a third wave hit, and everyone braced themselves. Once it passed, people were grateful for his next set of instructions.

“All right, time to move but do not run. There’s no need to run…put your hands on the shoulders in front of you and just keep walking calmly. You’re all right… you’re out in the open, just exit the pier until you hit solid ground. Do. Not. Run.”

Tahmoh crouched a few feet away from where Jared stood.

“Jared…” he hissed, a little louder when the shifter didn’t hear him at first. “You have to get off the pier yourself. You’re too close to the edge.”

Jared crawled on his knees as far as he could while still staying in the range of the microphone. “Half of us are still on the pier, and they’re scared. Let me do this…” he whispered back, covering the microphone with his hand.

Tahmoh shook his head. “Fine, then I’ll stay with you.”

“No, you should go to the front of the crowd. Don’t let another stampede break out or more people will get hurt.”

The Mer leader deliberated, but he knew Jared was right. The structural integrity of the pier was severely compromised. They couldn’t afford to panic. He instructed his Mer people to dive into the water, and form a protective barrier around the pier in case any humans did slip off the edge. Then he started to lead the rest towards safety, while Jared continued to calmly reassure them through the last standing speaker.

“It’s all right, your turn will come. Please don’t run. Please remain calm. We’ll all get off the pier, there is time. Please don’t run…”

It worked for a little while. But then another tremor struck, and this time the rest of the stage came apart at the seams. There was no time to move. Jared covered his head with his hands and curled up into a ball, hoping for the debris to miss his head at the very least.

Metal, glass, and hardwood rained down over him for what felt like forever. Yet when the thundering stopped and the cloud started to lift, Jared wondered why he hadn’t been hit at all. Tentatively he opened one eye and dared to look up. He found his mate towering above him, holding a heavy titanium beam up in his bulging arms, away from Jared.

“Think you can move now, _jaan_?”

Jared quickly crawled out of the way so Jensen could let go of the beam. When it came crashing down, the weight of it tipped the rest of the precariously hanging stage over. The couple made a run for it and got out of range just in the nick of time.

“Come on, slow and steady, you’re all right, just keep moving…” A female voice seemed to have taken over the role of facilitator from Jared. He glanced over to find Kathryn leading the last of the protestors away from the edge, slowly but steadily, until everyone was firmly on solid ground. Well, as solid as one could expect in an earthquake.

“Is everyone okay? Anybody called 999 yet?” Jensen called out and the people nearest to him nodded. Then they looked around and started to check on each other, quickly cascading the support down to the last person at the rally. The tremors seemed to have stopped at last.

Jared looked down and his mouth flew open in shock. A wide crevice about half a meter wide had opened in the ground, splitting the wooden pier structure into two neat pieces. One of which now floated in the Bay of Eritrea.

The first ones to break the stunned silence that followed were the reporters of course. And the first thing _they_ did – was make a beeline for the two seismologists now sitting on their asses a short distance away, looking at each other in quiet astonishment.

“Tahmoh! Where’s Tahmoh?” Jensen asked around, getting worried.

“Right here!” the Mer came forward, looking a little haggard but otherwise uninjured. The old friends hugged each other briefly. “Good to see you, brother.”

“Thank Fenrir you're okay,” Jensen sighed in relief. “Looks like nobody is seriously hurt.”

“Jensen, what about them?” Jared whispered, his voice strained. The Lycan turned to his mate in question and followed his gaze out to the sea.  His eyes narrowed at the sight of the cruise ship anchored some distance away.

Or at least what used to be a cruise ship.

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

The luxury liner floating in the deep waters of the Bay barely felt the tremors.

A few glasses may have quivered, as did the crystal chandeliers. But the music was too loud, and the people too drunk to notice. That is, until the last wave of tremors brought the crevice straight to the end of pier 28 and cracked open the face of the mountain cliff right where the cruise ship was anchored.

Then the earthquake triggered a landslide.

Massive rocks broke off the cliff and rolled down the steep incline before falling into the water. One of these gigantic rocks hit the stern, smashing a hole through to the bottom of the ship. People screamed, the music stopped, the ship trembled and shook, only to be hit by another huge boulder, this time right down the middle of the upper deck, splicing the vessel in two.

The first ones to fall into the water were those right in the center of the dance floor, or at the stern enjoying a drink at the bar. But once the ship split in two, no one was safe. Bodies tumbled into the ice cold water, scrambling for any piece of the fractured ship they could grab and hang on to for dear life. Overhead the news copters continued to hover, shining massive spotlights onto the wreckage to capture the best vantage points possible. Curiously nobody from the copters tried to help.

 

> _Oh my continents! This is unbelievable! What was a scene of decadence and frivolity, has been turned into one of horror and tragedy in a matter of seconds! According to experts, that water is fifty degrees Fahrenheit. And with our post-glacial constitution these people won’t survive more than nine minutes! Where the hell is the coast guard?_

 

 

**** -- ****

 

 

While Emily Perkins continued to report from pier 14, she seethed internally because turned out the cruise ship was the better story of the night. Three hundred very rich, very important people had just been dumped into the icy water. Most likely because of the very drill they’d gathered to celebrate! It was the most fantastic piece of primetime television the planet had seen in a while.

Jensen and Kathryn stood side by side, gazing into the far distance at the wrecked ship. People were starting to recognize the two Alphas, gathering around them in a circle of whispers. Someone grabbed Jensen by the arm, pulling his attention away from the scene.

“Jared?”

“Don’t go, please,” Jared wheezed. He didn’t need the bond to know what his Lycan mate was thinking.

Jensen smiled softly at the love of his life. “What would you do? In my place?”

Jared sighed, knowing he’d lost the argument long before he grabbed Jensen’s arm. He lowered his eyes to their entwined hands once, then without warning pulled Jensen in for a desperate kiss. He held the Lycan close for a second, before forcing himself to let go, and get out of the way.  

“Just… don’t be long.”

"Back before you know it." Jensen smiled at his mate with pride, then turned towards the sea. Briefly he glanced at his sister standing beside him. In response, Kathryn just rolled her eyes. “Do you even need to ask?”

Misha had by this time jogged his way up to the pier as well. He stood beside Jared, fists on his hips as he struggled to catch his breath. It didn’t take him long to size up what was happening. Then he subtly nodded at his Lycan friends, as if giving his blessing for what they were about to do.

Jensen and Kathryn broke into a run. Together, in perfect synchrony, they reached the broken end of the pier, and launched themselves into a swan dive off the edge.

On their way towards the water fifty feet below, in full view of all the people behind and news copters above… the Lycans transformed. Two magnificent wolves – one black and one golden – splashed gracefully into the water, disappeared from view for a few milliseconds before surfacing again. A loud cheer broke out on the pier as humans who’d never witnessed a Loric transformation before stood watching, awed and beyond grateful.

The siblings swam towards the sinking shipwreck. One of the helicopters followed them closely, shining spotlights on the two figures and capturing every moment of this… hugely historic event, while streaming it live to the world. The Mers guarding pier 14 waited for their leader's signal. Tahmoh, once he was sure all protesters were safe, sent a telepathic command, and the Mers splashed away promptly to follow the Lycans.

Jared gripped the edge of a railing and watched his mate and sister-in-law disappear into the moonlit waters of the Bay. They were going to be okay, he knew it in his heart as sure as day. But he couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow morning would look like for them all.

“The High Alpha is going to have my head for this,” Misha grumbled beside him.

Just behind them stood the reporter, Emily Perkins, who suddenly couldn’t be more excited to have been assigned the rally instead of the cruise. She turned towards her viewers, practically hopping in her spot.

 

> _The Ackles have done it again! They’ve violated the New Tibet Accord by transforming on human territory! And, by continents, what a captivating sight it was! Viewers around the world who caught that momentous event live, will forever remember this day when we all shared the privilege of seeing not one but two Loric transformations with our own eyes! And what makes this more special and truly humbling is the fact that they did it to save human lives! Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just witnessed history in the making. This could change EVERYTHING!_
> 
>  

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 


	12. Epilogue

#### Avril, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_1 st precinct, Capital PD  
Cathedral, Manchester_ **

 

Assistant Detective Lisa Berry watched the live coverage in her office, surrounded by congratulatory flowers for her recent success on the Palicki case. All her attention was pinned to the situation unfolding at the edge of the city. First responders in helicopters and hovercrafts blazed through the sky towards the pier and the sea. The stronger swimmers managed to get out of the freezing waters and saved themselves. But Lisa knew that realistically, help wouldn’t arrive in time for many in peril.

That’s when the cameras zoomed in on two enormous wolves wading towards the wreckage. Followed by what looked like a battalion of Mers not far behind.

Lisa stood up and got as close to the plasma as possible. She watched entranced, and thoroughly amused, as a big black wolf grabbed a mousy little man by the cuff of his neck, dragged him to the nearest lifeboat, and flung him in with a huge splat.  

 

>   _That is Curtis Armstrong! Holy continents, Alpha-apparent Jensen Ackles just saved the CEO of Armstrong Industries from certain death! Although, he doesn’t look too grateful at the moment…_

  
Other people in the lifeboat tried to help Armstrong, but he batted them away. Lisa snorted, then turned her attention to the wolf instead. He was so magnificent and powerful. And wholly focused as he swam toward the next human stranded in the water, out of range of the camera.  

 

>   _Now this is interesting, people. Mr. Armstrong looks downright pissed! Probably because his rescuer has very publicly expressed opposition to his lustrum ambitions. Speaking of which, I’d say the implications for the Armstrong project are pretty clear at this point…_

  
 “Hell yes, they are!” Lisa exclaimed and turned away from the plasma.

There was no denying what caused the earthquake. What had sounded like a conspiracy theory just days ago, actually came true. There was no way for the Tapping administration to ignore the situation anymore. And there was no way Armstrong would ever be allowed to drill into the Bay of Eritrea again.

Lisa smirked. She was still working on Mark Pellegrino in prison. And despite all the red tape in her way, she was determined to build a case against Armstrong. If they thought they could stop her, they obviously didn’t know Lisa Berry. She wasn’t going to be deterred. Not until _all_ the murderers of Adrianne Palicki were brought to justice.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

 

#### Avril, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

**_Chatoyant Court,  
Stormway, Manchester_ **

 

In the suite of the most sought-after courtesan at the Court – James Patrick Stuart stood before the plasma, watching the coverage intently. He wore black silk slacks and an undone white shirt hanging by his sides, exposing his chest.

He wondered if it’d been a good career move to leave the news business to do scripted shows instead. With all these Lorics breaking age-old decrees left, right and center, reality TV had never been more exciting as in the past few weeks.

Behind him in the bedroom stood a ‘horse’ – a furniture for play that was a gift from Alaina, as compensation for the loss of a big client (Jensen Ackles.) And draped over the horse was Matt Cohen himself, naked, bent by his waist with his ass in the air, wrists and ankles strapped to the four legs.

There was a plus-sized black vibrator stuffed in his orifice but it wasn’t on. He was blindfolded, and while he could hear the news on the plasma, he couldn’t understand what was holding Stuart’s attention so much better than Matt in his current state. He craned his neck back towards his patron in the living room and whined.

“Ja-ames! Starting to feel a little neglected here…”

“…”

“Come on here, love. You’ve been watching the damn news for _hours_!”

Stuart didn’t move from his spot. His mouth had fallen open and refused to close since the broadcast began. His brows furrowed as he skimmed the screen from one corner to the next, trying to capture every minute detail of the scene unfolding before his eyes. This, as the reporter said, was history in the making.

Like most of the two hundred million humans inhabiting the planet, he’d never seen a Loric being transform into their pure form before. There’d never been any doubts as to the benevolence and nobility of the Lycans of Albion. They had gifted Manchester to the humans for free, for fuck’s sake. And yet, interracial dynamics had been fraught with tension in the last three millennia. This event though… this could mean a sea of change not just for Manchester, but the whole world.  

 

>    _And it looks like between the Lycans and the Mers, most of the three hundred people have been fished out of the water. Hypothermia is still a concern, and that’s where the first responders would lean in. Four millennia of living in underground bunkers has weakened the human constitution. So one thing’s for sure, if it weren’t for the Lorics tonight, these people would not be alive right now…_

  
Behind him, Matt griped again.

“Seriously, if you’re going to make me wait, then the very least you could do is…”

He didn’t need to finish. Without taking his eyes off the plasma, Stuart pointed a tiny remote backwards in the courtesan’s direction. The vibrator came alive, and Matt’s complaints dissolved into an unbroken series of moans. His limbs went lax under the onslaught of the delightful vibrations. He found himself twerking vigorously in an attempt to push the vibrator in deeper, while his cock sought that deliciously elusive friction against the horse’s wooden surface.

And for the next few minutes Matt was perfectly content. He didn’t need Stuart, or anyone else really, anymore.

 

**** -- ****

 

 

On the top floor of the same mansion, Alaina was pacing back and forth in a state of panic, trying to reach Jared on the phone. She’d seen his speech at the rally and she knew he was right there by the stage when the earthquake hit.

“Come on, where are you, Jared…”

Her hair was down, burgundy curls cascading all the way to her tailbone, matching her long form-fitting dress of the same shade.

“Oh please, pick up pick up pick up…”

The line connected. “Alaina?”

“Oh my goodness, are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m okay, things are in control now. Don’t worry, okay? I have to go, I will call you back…”

“But Jared –?” the line went dead.

Alaina huffed, but she understood. If the utter chaos unfolding on her plasma was any indication, the boy must have too much on his plate right now to talk. She collapsed on her couch, poured herself a glass of red wine, and followed the news.

Relief washed over her every time there was a shot of Jared (still being safe) on the screen. Not that he couldn’t self-heal. But some injuries could be so big and so disruptive to the body that shifters wouldn’t have the time or energy to heal themselves. Like acute blood loss, or a bullet to the head, or the loss of a limb – no shifter could regenerate a limb far as she knew.

She watched the Lycan wolves, as fascinated as the rest of the world. It was impressive how they grabbed the humans gently, swung them up on their backs and carried them to safety. And they did it selflessly, without regard for their own safety, over and over again. Both Jensen and Kathryn were so beautiful – the big black wolf and the smaller golden one, contrasting and complimenting each other perfectly.

Unlike most humans, this wasn’t the first time she was seeing one though.

She still remembered the magnificent wolf she’d encountered, right here in Stormway twenty-five years ago. That one was also black but with socks of snow-white on all four paws, and a ring of white encircling his neck. She also remembered his stunning cobalt blue eyes, and a curiously chipped left ear. Like a piece of his lobe had been chomped off and for some reason never regenerated.

Alaina remembered how smitten Samantha had been with the Lycan who was just as beautiful in his humanoid form as a wolf. And how heartbroken she’d been when he disappeared after dating for just a couple of weeks, never to be seen or heard from again. She wondered if Samantha would have ever changed her mind about telling Jared about his biological father. If she’d ever want Jared to know that he had both shifter and Lycan blood in him.

Alaina sighed and drained her wine glass in one swig, then rose to get a refill.

“You’re not his mother, you’re just… _not_.”

She reminded herself that simply caring for Jared like Samantha would have, didn’t give her the right to ignore his _real_ mother’s dying wish. No matter what Alaina’s feelings may be on the subject, it was not her decision to make, or her place, period.  

 

>   _And there you have it, folks. This horrific disaster could have been an equally horrific tragedy, but was prevented from being so by the Lorics of Albion and the Bay of Eritrea. The debt of gratitude the people of Manchester owe to the Ackles family continues to grow by leaps and bounds…_

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Avril, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Ackles private jet,  
_ ** **_Somewhere over the Panamic Ocean_ **

 

High Alpha Alan Ackles was on his way to Westworld, when his assistant came by with his cup of tea.

“Alpha,” the Beta said in a hushed tone. “You asked me to keep an eye on the press from Manchester…”

Alan sighed and looked up. “What did my son do now?”

“Um, probably best if you tuned in yourself. It’s channel 352…”

It took Alan a couple of moments to make sense of the images he was seeing. And then he rolled his eyes. “Both of them? Oh, for crying out loud!”

His assistant bit back a little smile and walked away. She, for one, was quite used to seeing that reaction from the High Alpha when it came to his children.

Alan watched the news for a while longer just to make sure Jensen and Kathryn were all right. If diplomatic relations were of any import to Tapping, she wouldn’t dare touch them again. He flicked the plasma off and went right back to what he was doing before.

The phone rang, and Alan sighed again. He had expected the calls to start coming in soon, but he was surprised to see who the first one was.

“Cudlitz? It’s been a while.”

The High Alpha of the Westworld Sherans appeared onscreen.  “I was expecting to see you at the hearing the other day, but was told you refrained because of your _connections_ on the panel. Smart move, that one.”

Alan smirked. “I knew you would do the right thing by my son, Michael.”

Michael smiled back. “With everything your son has been up to of late, I can only imagine what you’re going through, old friend.”

“I take it you’ve been following the news tonight?”

Michael leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Tonight’s a good night for us all, Alan. It always helps to have those bunker rats be reminded of their debt to the Lorics every now and then. Easier to keep their greed and ambition in check that way.”

Alan couldn’t disagree. This very public comeuppance for Tapping and Armstrong was going to be good for business, as far as Albion was concerned.

“I called to talk about something else though,” Cudlitz continued.

“What is it?”

“You know I’d do anything to keep my children safe, Alan. As would you. Even if that means protecting the shifter who now happens to be your son’s mate.”

Alan swallowed visibly, he already knew where this was going.

“But what are we going to do if this boy gets pregnant?”

“…”

“I need not remind you what happened with the last _trueblood_ … the decades and decades of havoc he wrecked on Westworld. Our friend Norman is still suffering the consequences of letting that abomination live.”

Alan remained somber and quiet. Yes he remembered. Yes he was aware of the potential consequences of allowing Jared to get pregnant.

“I will take care of it.”

“I could send help.”

“I will let you know.”

After Cudlitz disconnected, Alan rose and helped himself to a swig of aconite-sprinkled bourbon. The Sherans wouldn’t be the only ones calling, now that Jensen’s betrothal had been announced in neon lights to every sentient being on the planet. And rubbed in their faces by the nonstop media circus these last few days.

The trumps will flip a lid purely out of prejudice. But that wasn’t a problem Alan wanted to tackle, not right now anyway. He was more concerned with how Hilarie might react once she found out the danger her pups put themselves in tonight.

And then there was that damn rebel, Morgan. He’d surely be relishing this. Seeing this as a slap in the face of the cordillera, and proof that blood was always thicker. Well, to hell with that. Alan may not be Jensen’s biological father but he’d been Jensen’s _Dad_ since he was six years old. And he had no intention of letting anything or anyone come between himself and _his son_.

Social and political pressures be damned.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ****

#### Avril, 3947 PG (post-glacial era)

 **_Santorini, southern coast of Midworld,  
_****_New Tibet_**    

 

>   _And that was the Chief Commissioner of Police, who just confirmed that there will be NO arrest warrants issued for any of our guardian angels tonight. Not for the Lycans, Kathryn and Jensen Ackles, or the Mers. The announcement was met with unanimous applause from both media and the Mancunians gathered at City Hall. Coming up next, live from the Parliament, President Tapping will soon be making a statement and finally breaking her silence on the lustrum project she sanctioned two months ago. Stay tuned, we’ll be right back…_

  
Jeffrey rested his feet up on the coffee table before him and leaned back on the couch. He couldn’t stop smiling. His heart swelled to thrice its size, and not for the first time in eighty four years he felt grateful that Jensen was _his son_. His. Not that bureaucrat, Alan’s.

When the coverage resumed, the cameras panned across pier 14 where some protestors were still gathered, refusing to leave the scene. A couple of male figures caught his eye. He instantly sat up straight and called for his mate.

“Andy, get back in here! Jared is on!”

“Coming, almost there!” Andy called back from the kitchen. A second later he appeared, jogging as lightly as possible with a bottle of beer in one hand.

He handed the beer to Jeff, sat down beside him and made himself comfortable. He was dressed in light grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt he usually slept in. Jeff was also in his night clothes – black sweatpants and a matching jersey with the sleeves rolled up.

Jeff swung an arm around the smaller man and pulled him closer to his chest. Andy allowed himself to be manhandled, resting his head back on Jeff’s sternum, and folding his legs underneath himself.

“There, that’s him! That’s Jared. On the right of Tahmoh there.”

“Wow, he’s really tall.”

“Before you got home, they were showing his speech at the rally tonight. You missed it, it was really clever, very articulate.”

“Nice. He used to be a lawyer, right?”

“Yeah.”

Andy looked at the shifter quietly for a while. “He’s so beautiful.”

“That he is,” Jeff agreed, his voice brimming with pride on behalf of his son. That was his son’s bonded mate – his better half. He couldn’t wait for Jensen to bring him home so they could get to know each other.

“Well, looks like your son inherited his father’s good taste in partners after all.”

Jeff chuckled and kissed the top of Andy’s head. “You know how much I love you, _jaan_ , don’t you?”

Andy craned his face up to steal a quick kiss, then smiled a little smugly. “I’d say I have a reasonably good idea.”

He went back to nestling against the Lycan, who brought a hand up to Andy’s dark curls and stroked them softly. Andy sighed in contentment and his eyes began to droop. He’d had a long, tiring day at the studio. But he wanted very much to stay awake and keep watching the one called Jared on the screen.

“He looks familiar.”

“Probably because he’s been on the news so much lately?”

“Hmm…”

Andy hummed lazily as Jeff’s hand trailed from his hair down to the side of his face, stopped to caress Andy's left ear. The Lycan gently thumbed his mate's misshapen earlobe, swiping across the indentation at the tip – a gap – like there was a piece missing or lopped off, and was never fixed.

Under the gentle ministrations of his mate, Andy closed his cobalt blue eyes, turned away from the shifter onscreen, and went to sleep.

 

 

**** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** END OF BOOK ONE ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- ****


End file.
